#but I guess he could have done something unknowingly

[onlyswan]

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

[whitexwolfxx310]

|| What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie? ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After accidentally revealing that you have a masked man kink, Bucky starts taking it to the next level.

Warnings: Smut- MDNI please!, oral sex (both ways!!), edging?, masturbation (F), praise kink, cursing, light stalking, breaking in, harassing texts/calls, and lots of angst.

Word Count: 4.3

A/Ns: Hi babes! This was going to be a short story but she came out kinda long, so I'm going to make it a 2 parter. Don't judge me 🙈 I looove masked men. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. This is also my first time getting more explicit with smut so don't judge me too harshly! xoxo

Snuggled up to Bucky under a comfy blanket with a bowl of extra buttery and salty popcorn, lights turned all the way down, you finally convinced him to watch the movie Scream. While you’ve seen it many times before and are aware of all the jump scares, you still cling onto him a little extra tight in preparation while he is completely unphased. About halfway through the movie, you hear Bucky snort.

“What?” You ask, looking up at him slightly. His face is illuminated by the glow of the tv.

“Something you want to tell me, Doll?” One side of his mouth is tugged up in amusement.

“Bucky, what the fuck are you talking about?” Confused, you sit up to look at him.

He just shakes his head, grinning, “I’m talking about how every time a masked man comes on that screen,” he points to the tv, “you press those pretty little thighs of yours together.”

Your cheeks instantly flush, “You noticed that?”

“I pay attention to everything when it comes to my girl.” Bucky leans back more, resting his arm on top of the couch still grinning, “Tell me about it.” His eyes narrow slightly, something a bit darker lurking, intrigued by this knowledge.

“I don’t know… it’s just like,” you brush your hair behind your ears suddenly feeling embarrassed, “kind of like a kink? A fantasy maybe? There’s just something so dark and exhilarating about an unknown man behind a mask that stalks and is obsessed with you. The anonymity of it I guess?”

By the time you’re done explaining, your hands unknowingly gripped and crossed your chest. Blinking rapidly, you let go and focus back on Bucky who is just watching you intensely.

He nods and purses his lips lightly, “Maybe if I keep watching this movie, I’ll want a masked man for myself,” He teases.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” You grab a fistful of popcorn and throw it at him, sending you both into a laughing frenzy.

"You're cleaning that up, not me." Bucky laughs.

Him and his messes.

He scoops you in close to his body to finish the movie, and later that night he showed you that no masked man from a movie could ever compare to him.

Three weeks later.

While trying to grab your phone and keys out of your bag, you accidentally drop the stack of mail you had just picked up from the landlord’s office on the doormat.

“Shit!” You mutter to yourself. Bending down to pick it up, something catches your eye. Your apartment door is cracked open.

You stand up, discarding the mail and push open the door, “Hello?” You call out, “Bucky?” There’s no response.

Taking a few steps in, nothing looks out of place or any evidence that someone seems to have broken in. You start going through each room, keeping your phone firmly in your hand just in case. But there’s nothing. Walking out of the bedroom you decide you’re going to call Bucky to see how far away he is since he was on his way over, when you find him standing in the kitchen.

“OH! Fuck me-” You jump at the sight of him and grab your chest.

“Hey, Doll!” Bucky says, like the perfect golden retriever boyfriend that he is.

“Did you just get here?” You ask, your heart still pounding.

“Yeah, why?” he asks curiously, absentmindedly grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl off the kitchen counter and taking a bite.

“Um, yeah me too. It’s just-”

“Just… what?” He takes another bite.

“It’s just that... my door was open when I got here?”

“What?” Bucky’s face instantly changes, his eyes wide and anxious, “Go wait in the hallway until I look around.”

“I already did that-”

“Please?” He pleads as he throws out his barely eaten apple, already coaxing you towards the door.

Crossing your arms, you go and wait in the hallway while he looks around. After a few minutes he brings you back in.

“Everything looks to be fine, but I’m going to stay the night just in case.” You breathe a sigh of relief at Bucky’s words.

“Maybe maintenance came in and forgot to lock back up. I was having all those issues with my heater a few months ago,” You try justifying.

“Yeah maybe,” he says, with a small shrug of his shoulders.

About a week later is when the phone calls started.

Initially it was just 1 or 2 a day from a restricted number that you never picked up, assuming it was some kind of solicitation about your car’s extended warranty. But no voicemail was ever left.

As a few weeks went by though, it started to feel like borderline harassment. The number of phone calls jumped to an average of twenty times a day.

Sitting at your work desk your phone continued to violently vibrate, the words Unknown Caller lit up on the screen. You ran your hands through your hair, letting them linger on your scalp, starting to feel stressed every time your phone rang.

"Hey babes!" Hailee, your coworker/bff storms unannounced into your office, "You ready to grab some lu- oh my god. Are they calling you right now?" Obviously aware of the situation, she scurries around your desk in her too high heels and answers your phone. Clearing her throat, "Hi, thank you for calling Tammy's Whorehouse where we suck and fuck. How can I help you?" She taps an inpatient finger on her hip, waiting for a response and then the line goes dead.

Your hands fall down into your lap with an exacerbated breath, "No one ever answers."

"Have you tried tracking the number?" She puts the phone down and sits on top of your desk.

"I've tried calling my cell service, they can't do anything about it. If it keeps up, I just might change my number." You shake your head, "This is going to sound so dumb, but it has me so distracted. Apparently, I've been forgetting to charge my phone at night too? I swear I put it on the charger but then it dies in the night and that's why I've been late to work a few times."

Hailee tilts her head to the side, giving a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, girl. Hey!" She tries perking up, "Why don't we go get lunch and iced coffees? My treat?!" Her bright smile and shimmying shoulders get you to crack a smile. Jumping off your desk she claps her hands, "Yay!"

Suddenly there's a knock at your office door. Both of you stop the mini-iced coffee celebration and snap your attention to the nervous, uniformed teenager standing in the doorway.

"Delivery." he says shyly, looking between the two of you.

Hailee raises an eyebrow and smirks, looking you up and down, "Well, it wasn't delivered to my office."

You roll your eyes as you get up, smoothing your skirt down. Walking up to the boy, he quickly hands you a rather large bouquet of flowers. The intoxicating floral aroma hits you almost immediately, you cannot help but be astounded by the arrangement. Each individual flower is rather large, some darker than others; Ombres of red and burgundy into black.

"They're beautiful," You admire, inhaling deeply. "I don't think I've ever seen these before. Do you know what kind of flowers they are?" You ask the teen curiously.

"Black dahlia's," he recalled, and your stomach felt like it dropped with the mention of the name. "I don't think we've ever gotten a request for those at my family's shop before. That's the only reason I remember," he shrugged.

"Does Bucky have a brother? Because like, are you kidding me right now?" You glanced at Hailee who was making an over-the-top pouty face.

Asking the teen if he had CashApp to tip him, you quickly ushered him off. Searching through the flowers to see if there was a card or any indication that they were in fact from Bucky, but there wasn't.

That night, Bucky came over for dinner. He brought take out from a local Greek place that he really liked, but you were distracted. Just pushing the food around on your plate.

"You okay, doll?" His forehead puckered slightly in question.

"Yeah, um," You shake your head to try and focus, "Hey, thanks for the flowers today. That was super sweet and unexpected," considering you've been kinda stressed.

"Flowers? What flowers?" Bucky's posture stiffens.

"I got flowers delivered to me at work today, I just assumed it... was from you? Maybe it was a mistake then." There were suddenly mixed emotions being stirred around in a frenzy. If Bucky wasn't the one who sent the flowers, then who did? You tried saying they were dropped in your office by accident, but it just didn't feel right. It felt intentional.

"Well, honey, I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me." Bucky stands up from the kitchen table, grabbing his dinner plate. "Are you done?" He asks gesturing to your plate. You nod and he takes it as well, "But it's something I should do, and I'll be more conscious of it. I'm sorry,"

"No, Buck I wasn't-"

His lips press to the top of your head, "No, you're right. If anyone should be doing it, it should be me. Let me take the garbage out for you and we'll have the night to ourselves, yeah? Anything you want."

"Anything?" You repeat, in singsong with a grin.

He shakes his head, scraping the scraps from the plates into the garbage returning the grin, "I like where this is going," Tying off the bag, he holds up two fingers, "give me two minutes," he opens the door to the apartment and starts jogging down the hallway, "two minutes!!" you hear him call out.

The door to the apartment doesn't even fully shut before you hear the familiar buzz coming from your bag. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you angrily push away from the table and stomp over to the counter, dumping out your purse just to see Unknown Caller lit up on your phone.

You hit the green button so hard it doesn't register, so you do it again until it answers, "Hello?! What the FUCK do you want?!" No answer. But this time, you can hear someone breathing heavily. "You need some help. Seriously, leave me the fuck alone!" Hanging up, you slam the phone down onto the counter.

"Doll?" Bucky asks from the doorway, he sighs, "Was it that number bothering you again?"

"Yes!" You answer, flustered. "The next step is to just- change my number! I don't know what else to do."

Bucky steps in, closing in the door behind him with the back of his boot. His lips are pressed in tight line, "C'mere, darlin'," he holds his arms wide open, eyes soft. Dragging your feet, you meet him halfway and lay your head on his chest, "It's gonna be okay," he coos in your ear. "It's just some asshole with nothing better to do. They'll get bored soon enough. Worst case, we'll change your number. We can even go down to the store tomorrow and get you a new phone?" Bucky offers, trying to be optimistic as he caresses your arms up and down.

"I was just really hoping it wouldn't get to that point." You admit, pulling away from his chest just enough to look up at him.

"We'll do what we have to." Bucky smiles, cupping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before pressing his lips to yours.

Letting your lips linger a moment as your eyes close, you inhale deeply, taking in the cypress scented soap still lingering on his skin from a shower he took earlier. It's your favorite. Hence why you keep buying it every time he runs out. Bucky's lips separate yours, and when just the tips of your tongues connect, a barely audible whimper escapes your mouth.

Like a gun starting a marathon, it was all Bucky needed to hear. Reaching down and gripping behind your thighs, he hoists you up. With a delighted squeak, you wrap your legs around his torso, laughing but keeping your lips on his as your hands run through his short hair. Using one hand flat against your lower back to keep you pressed into his chest, Bucky's other hand firmly grasped your ass. His fingers purposefully grazing the inseam of your jeans between your legs as he walked towards the bedroom.

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, keeping you both upright. You break the mashing of tongues to re-adjust your position and straddle him. Leaning in, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, letting your teeth graze just a tiny bit before letting go. Bucky exhales a drawn out, low groan before licking his lips. The look in his eyes is absolutely carnal as he tugs your shirt over your head and throws it across the room. Not even bothering with your bra, he just pulls the black lace cups down beneath your breasts, propping them up in exposure as he dips down to flick his tongue across your nipple.

Initially it makes you shudder, but as he continues to suck, nibble, lick, repeat, you find reprieve in grinding your hips down into the ever-growing bulge in his pants. Bucky lets out a stifled groan before switching his mouth to your other nipple. You smirk to yourself; you just love to tease this man. Although, if we're being honest, this isn't so easy on you right now either.

Roughly gripping both sides of his face, you bring his lips back to yours. You’re starting to feel needy for more of his touch. Becoming desperate to relieve this fuel lit fire. Bucky’s hands were firmly placed on each of your ass cheeks, assisting your already rolling hips forward and back. He snakes one hand between your bodies, slipping it down the front of your pants, his finger sliding once between your slit. You both moan loudly in unison into the kiss.

"Fuuuck..." Bucky breathed, tilting his head back just slightly that your lips pull apart. "You're already so fucking wet for me," his lascivious eyes lock onto yours, his breathing already becoming rather ragged.

Hearing his debauched voice, knowing just that single glide of his finger has him aching so badly, has ignited a new spark in you. "It's all yours, baby," you purred. Biting the bottom corner of your lip, you slowly get off his lap. Hooking each of your pointer fingers into the front pockets of Bucky's jeans, you encourage him to stand up as you drop to your knees before him.

As he's fumbling with the button and zipper, you stare up at him with tantalizing eyes, your hands firmly grazing along his muscular thighs. Once he's able to get it open, you help start to shimmy down his jeans and boxer briefs passed his hips until they pool on the floor. Bucky's thick, long cock springs up at almost eye level in enthusiasm, instantly making your mouth water. Sticking your tongue out as far as you possibly can, you lock eyes with Bucky and press the tip to your tongue, dragging it to a flick.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, his body quivered at the first contact. You smile as you taste the initial saltiness on your tongue, licking your lips before hollowing out your cheeks and taking him into your mouth. Bucky exhales deeply, his head starting to tilt back but he stops, making sure he maintains eye contact with you. You draw back, pressing your tongue upward firmly, go forward, and go back again. After a moment, a rhythm gets going, you now move your tongue side to side as you bob front to back, sucking harder.

"That's it," Bucky coaxes, "That's my good fucking girl," a small whimper escapes your throat at his words of praise. You clamp your legs together a little tighter as it's getting harder to ignore the incessant throbbing and growing wet spot between your legs.

The next thing you know, his hands are in your hair, gathering it up into a makeshift ponytail. Grasping his shaft with your hand steadily, you use that to guide your mouth, twisting and gliding easily. You know it's his weakness. Bucky's hips start to buck up into your mouth as he pulls your head down further onto his throbbing cock. Through now teary eyes you’re determined to watch as his face starts to contort with pleasure, his moans music to your ears just as your gagging is to him.

"You look...Ahh...so...fucking...pretty," Each word comes out with a drive of his hips into your mouth. In the dim lighting of the room, completely blissed out on pleasure, he looks like a fucking god. And he's mine. The thought alone is enough to make you explode. "Ugh!" Bucky growls, "I can't take it anymore! C'mere!" With a small 'pop', he pulls out and grabs underneath your arms and tosses you onto the bed.

Giggling, you wipe the excess saliva off your swollen, red lips as you push back further onto the bed. Bucky pulls your jeans and panties down and off in one swift motion before kneeling onto the bed. His eyes are glazed over, solely focused on between your legs. He crawls upward, and it's purely feline as he dips down, his mouth creating a seal and sucking once.

The combination of a loud moan and gasp get ripped straight from your lungs as you practically convulsed off the bed from being so aroused. Bucky quickly and securely locks your thighs in place to keep them open and from you going anywhere. He grinned, watching every single movement.

"Eyes on me, princess," he ordered. Pressing down on your lips, you nodded in anticipation. Leaning in, Bucky skimmed his lips on your very inner thigh, placing a feather light kiss that made your entire abdomen tense.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"Fuck," Bucky sits back up on his knees, taking his phone out of the pocket of his jeans that was still around his ankles. "Hello?" You stare up at him in complete disbelief, "What, now?" He looks down at you on the bed, giving a sympathetic look and mouths 'sorry'. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he drags a hand down his face. "Yeah... yeah. No- I understand... Okay. Yep. I'll be there. Bye." He hangs up the phone.

"Don't say it," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest and closing your legs.

Bucky takes a deep breath, "I have to go back, a mission came up."

"Annnd, you said it," you look up at the ceiling, refusing to keep that eye contact that you were so adamant on not even a minute ago.

"It sounded pretty important, Doll." Bucky is off the bed, pulling up his pants and re-adjusting himself in them.

"It always is," you mutter under your breath. Sighing, you just accepted the fact that your night is completely ruined. "So, what you're telling me is, that I'm getting cock blocked by The Avengers?"

Bucky sits on the bed, placing a delicate hand on your cheek, "I'm really sorry. I'll make this up to you tenfold, promise." He kisses you softly, "I have to go. I'll contact you as soon as I can. I love you," He offers a small smile.

You sigh, knowing you can never let him leave on bad terms, "I love you too, Buck." Sitting up you give him a hug and a few extra kisses that probably made him late.

Still sitting in bed after Bucky had gone, you felt irrationally irritated by how he left. Tapping on your thighs, a headache was already brewing from the pent-up sexual tension that you were unable to get out. That's when you suddenly remembered a little something on your phone that might just help you out in this situation. There was this one particular time you and Bucky decided to record yourselves having sex, and you've never went back and watched it. If there was ever a time to go back and do so...

Excitedly, you go over to the dresser. You pull open your underwear drawer and dig through all the way to the back, where you stash your favorite vibrator. You click the silicone button a few times to make sure it's charged, and all the intensity settings worked before laughing menacingly to yourself and closing the drawer. Tossing the toy onto the bed, you walk out to the kitchen.

Your phone was where you had left it earlier, still slammed face down on the counter. Sashaying over, you notice that there's an applecore sitting next to it. This is odd, because you didn't have one and Bucky is normally very meticulous when it comes to cleaning and picking up after himself. Going to throw it out, you realize there is no garbage bag in the trash can and suddenly it makes sense. Bucky was in a rush to leave; he probably didn't have the time to replace the bag. So, you do it yourself, and throw out the eaten fruit.

Getting back to your room with your phone, you notice that your underwear drawer is open. Pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes, you look from the bed, to the dresser, back to the bed. I could have sworn I closed that. Then again, maybe it's just the headache coming on. You close the dresser drawer, and all too eagerly jump under the covers.

The ambiance for a little 'self-love' right now is almost too perfect. Your bedroom is dimly lit with only a mood lamp and the fog covered streetlamps from down below your apartment. The light patter of rain hit against your bedroom window and fire escape underneath it, while some light thunder rolled some distance away.

Scrolling through your phone, it wasn't hard to find exactly what you were looking for. Pressing 'play', you're watching a side view of you taking Bucky from the back. Your mouth drops open slightly, seeing it from a third person view. Bucky has his Vibranium hand on the side of your face, pushing you down further into the mattress and he is just relentless. And the sounds, God the sounds. You grab the vibrator, turning it on and quickly placing it onto your already sensitive and swollen clit and start rubbing it and soft circles.

"Look at how good you take it,"

"Oh, God!"

"Are you gonna come for me?"

"Mhm,"

"I can't hear you, princess,"

"Can I come Bucky? Please, please let me..."

"Of course, my good girl can come. Here... lean down more...open those legs wider...touch yourself...yeah...fuck, yeah...just like that baby,"

The bed is practically shattering underneath you as Bucky, who isn't even there, coaxes you into having an orgasm with yourself. You rub the vibrator more intensely, knowing you’re about to come hard from the pent-up tension this evening. The lights surge briefly in the apartment from the passing storm, just as your head presses down further against the pillows and the ripples of pleasure aggressively take over your body.

The lights go out momentarily, and that's when you see the silhouette of a tall, dark hooded figure standing on your fire escape looking into your window.

The lights come back on a second later and you’re panting. Both from the release and from what you saw. The cognizance hits you that you just came in front of a total stranger. Oh, and maybe that I might have a stalker.

The cops came, looked around, made you feel like an idiot, took a report, and left. Not feeling comfortable staying in the apartment for the night, you called Hailee, who offered up her spare bedroom.

Sitting across from you with her legs crossed on the couch, her hair in a bonnet, a glass of wine, and blue raspberry vape, she leaned in, listening intently to the details leading up to this moment.

“Soo… you know I’m gonna ask,” she starts.

You sigh, “I don’t know when I’m going to tell Bucky. I always feel so guilty when he’s away and something happens.”

Hailee’s face scrunches as she waves her hand in dismissal, “No, no not that,” You raise an eyebrow at her in confusion. “Can I see it?” She lowers her voice, but it’s oozing with hope.

“Bitch,” both your eyebrows raise in aghast, realizing what she’s actually asking.

“What?! Come onnnn,” She whines, pressing her hands together in plead and pouts her lip.

“Oh my god, Hailee! No! Just… no.”

Rolling her eyes she composes herself again, “Okay, so like, you ever just… look at a man, and you just know?” Her hands wave around as she’s trying to explain, “Like, that man can fuck? I feel like that’s Bucky. And so…” Hailee looks so determined right now, “s-shame on you!” She points directly at you, this is comical, “for not sharing the video evidence! Because now I’m convinced you have a boring, vanilla sex life!”

Leaning back against the kitchen counter sipping your glass of water, you hear yourself coming down from the highs of ecstasy through your phone. Hailee’s wide eyes are glued, mouth dropped open, speechless, for once. The sound finally cuts off.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a brother because-”

You quickly snatch the phone out of her hand, “Okay, you got what you wanted. Can we be serious now?!”

“Yeah,” Hailee shakes her head, “yeah, of course…” she takes a deep breath, “I’m just saying, you seriously have some career options if your current job doesn’t work out though.”

“Hailee!!”

“Okay! I’m sorry!” Her hands go up in a surrender, “but you put in a police report, and I mean, of course you can stay here. What else are you going to do?”

*Ding*

“Hang on, I just got a text.”

“Who the fuck would be texting you this late?” Hailee asks, getting off the couch to read the text with you over your shoulder.

Together you read the message:

Part 2

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr

[lcriedlastnight]

Enemies to lovers with Lando. Someone says something bad / criticises Lando in front of reader and she immediately defends him without knowing he’s behind her and can hear everything. And maybe as she’s defending him she’s also unknowingly/ without realizing / accidentally admitting her feelings for him

i love this idea! thank you so much anon, love!

tw: fem!reader, swears, logan hate (do not support!), little lando hate, not spellchecked or proof read, lmk if you want me to add anything else.

w/c: 2k

you and lando had never gotten along. you’d never gotten along and you’d never tried to. it was just one of those things, you supposed. you didn’t make a big deal out of it as the two of you shared a friend group and didn’t want to cause any issues between the group. lando however, well it seemed like he had a serious issue with you.

at first you did try to get along with him, his ego was massive and that really did put you off wanting to be friends with him but you could be fake a friendship with him. a friendship out of convenience was perfectly fine with you. lando was just having none of it. he’d ignore any conversation you would try to have with him - even in a group setting. you had tried just not talking to him but even that left you on the receiving end of dirty looks and mean comments. you’d had enough with it so you stopped caring about him entirely.

well that’s what you told your friends. in reality; you cared what he thought, you looked for his reaction to any story that was told in the room and you looked to see if he laughed at your jokes. every single time you were left with blank stares and bored expressions.

your friends noticed this and tried their best to ease the tension between the two of you but because of lando’s stubbornness, there was nothing they could really do. he really did make things difficult sometimes.

you had all gathered around the drivers house to celebrate a mutual close friend’s birthday. you and you close girl friends had gotten ready for the get together at your house and headed to the party together.

“so is the vibe for tonight party or chilled?” your friend asks as you jump out of the taxi outside lando’s apartment complex. your other friend snorts in amusement before she replies.

“girl, we’re at lando’s what do you think the vibe is?”. you frown. the party vibe wasn’t really what the birthday boy enjoyed so you hoped for his sake it was more a chilled, hanging with friends vibe. you also didn’t really dress for a party, your favourite pair of jeans on as well as one of those cute baby tee’s you found on tiktok.

“i hope not. fin doesn’t really like parties.” you remind them as you press the buzzer for lando’s. it rings for a second then you hear his crackly voice through the speaker. “hello?”. he sounded sober. good start.

“can you let us in please?” you ask into the intercom. there is a pause before lando replies.

“no. we’re full.”

your friend rolls her eyes at his words, knowing all this is was because he was talking to you. if he would just stop acting like a dickhead for more than two seconds people could maybe get things done. meanwhile, you huff at lando’s words opening your mouth to complain to him but your friend cuts in. “just let us in, norris.”.

she sounds fed up enough already that lando immediately tells them to “head on up, then.” she storms ahead of you and your other friend. you look at each other with annoyed looks.

“to be fair it’s a good thing she did that because you haven’t fell into his traps in months.” she reminds you as you reach his door which was open waiting on you and your friend. you nod. it was true, ignoring lando was really going well for you… from your friends point of view anyways. your mind was still plagued with thoughts of him.

your friend walks in before you so make sure to close the door behind you.

“so i guess we were wrong. looks like it is a chill night.” you friend says as she sees your friends dotted around the place, conversing. it looked very adult. weird for something lando was in charge of planning. you didn’t know he was capable of being anything except snide and rude. maybe he could be thoughtful and caring to the people he loved. the thought makes you frown but before you can linger on it for too long your friend grabs you both a drink and you take seats on his couch.

you notice you’re the last ones to arrive and try to find your friend that stormed off earlier. your eyes rake around the room until they land on her sitting with fin, the birthday boy. they looked cosy. ‘good for them’ you think as you take a sip of your drink. you notice lando sitting with his friend, max, on the couch next to you. you glance in his direction then redirect your eyes.

after maybe half an hour of socialising and drinking, fin announces (with your other friend hanging off his arm) that he wants to play a game of truth or dare. you thought it was a bit childish but everyone agreed so you did too. you all sit in a circle and decide to place a bottle in the middle.

“this is so high school.” you say to your friend, who just laughs in agreement. you had ended up sitting next to max on one side and your friend on the other. you quite liked max, he was nothing like lando, which helped you like him a lot more.

“since it’s my birthday, i’ll go first!” fin says as he spins the bottle. it lands on max. fin grins before asking the question you know you’re going to be tired of hearing after tonight.

after a couple of rounds a few of you disperse to get drinks and use the toilet. you were pretty sure some went for a smoke break. you didn’t even know anyone where smoked. lando was one of the people that had left, he went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and max. the good thing about not being able to let anyone know you were staring at lando was that you got good at lip reading and hearing things from a distance. you also got good at seeing things out of the corner of your eye. it was during your turn when lando asked max if he wanted another drink. you felt like you were keeping tabs on the boy, you were starting to feel a bit creepy as you answered your question.

the game continues as people (lando) leave. it was your friend turn but she was a bit more than drunk and would only accept a question from fin, the man she was clinging to all night.

you can all see the wheels turning in fin’s mind as he thinks up a question. “how good of a driver do you think lando actually is?” he finally asks.

everyone perks up at the question, wanting to see if your friend had any unpopular opinions on lando’s driving skills.

“he’s shit. like- that’s him just won his first race? after racing for like five years? that doesn’t really scream future world champion does it?” she criticised, words slurred. your face is screwed up in disagreement. you bite your tongue though, knowing she was drunk and probably just wanted to start something. you’re sure you heard someone gasp.

“you don’t really mean that?” another one of your friends asks in shock. your drunk friend only nods.

“i do. he’s bad. like he’s not logan sargent bad but he’s mid at best and i don’t understand the hype. i never have and i don’t think i ever will.” she smiles a little and that’s what gets you.

“i’m sorry are you being serious right now? firstly the audacity you have to sit there, shitfaced, bashing on the person who’s house you’re inside and who bought you the drinks in the first place is absurd,” you start, bring her down a peg. you hear footsteps behind you but you’re too pent up to acknowledge them right now.

“secondly, have you even watched a race? ever? or even recently? because if you had then you would know just how good he actually is. you’re sitting there talking about him like you know exactly how hard he worked to get to where he is and to achieve that win. millions of people - who actually watch the races, by the way - have said how difficult it is to end verstappen’s win streak and lando was the first person to do so this season.” you rant, enraged that she spoke about lando like that.

her mouth opens and closes a few times before she says, almost cockily. “carlos sainz won before lando did, in australia. you act like i don’t know shit about f1.”

“lando’s win means way more than carlos’ because max was still in the race in miami. he had the chance to actually win it, whereas in australia he dnf’d. so do you actually know what you’re talking about? i, along with like a million other people like lando and think he’s going to go very far the rest of the season.” you educate her. she should really know all of this seeing as you always told her every detail about the races on the mondays following.

“bitch.” she has nothing to retaliate with so she chooses to resort to name calling. you don’t even give her a reply and stand up to go outside to get some air. you stand up so quickly you don’t see the feet standing directly behind you or the hard chest you smash into. you could tell it was lando from the scent. was it weird? maybe but you didn’t care much. you’re embarrassed that he probably heard your rant defending him and that you just smashed right into his chest so you step backwards and head to lando’s balcony to sit outside with the smokers.

you rush outside and sit down in the far corner next to the railing. you watch the streets below for a few minutes, trying to forget what you had just done and who you had done it in front of. you feel lando looming over you a few minutes later.

“y’alright?” he asks as he takes a seat next to you. you feel uncomfortable a little, you’ve never been this close to him, even though that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted for the past three years. and he’s being nice to you. lando have never been nice to you. ever. you’d seen him be nice to others, hundreds of times before so you knew what it was like, but you could only have dreamed of being on the receiving end of it.

“yeah.” you reply. you move your head from watching the cars pass on the road to rest your forehead on your tucked up knees.

“thank you for what you did… well said i guess. it was really nice of you.” lando starts, his hand sits awfully close to the edge of your shoe. it’s not touching but if you shuffled your foot a few times towards him, it would be.

“i know i don’t really deserve it. not from you anyways. you’ve always been so sweet to me and i’ve kinda been- well a dick.” you let out a breathy giggle at his choice of words.

“yeah. you have been a dick.” lando grins as you agree with him.

“what if i said i didn’t wanna be a dick to you anymore?” he said, you’re sure you heard a hint of shyness in his voice.

you move you’re head from it’s resting place to look at him in confusion. “you don’t? how do you want to treat me then?” you ask.

lando smiles. “like i should’ve been for the past god knows how long.” you give him your own smile back.

“for the record i like you too.” lando teases, his hand coming to clutch at your thigh. you groan.

“i hate you.” he laughs that laugh.

“no you don’t.” you rest your head on your shoulder and listen to the traffic. lando’s thumb rubs across your skin. his touch is soothing. this is the first nice memory you have with lando.

[werecreature-addicted]

Ok I’ve seen some art that I have for my idea of my mateeee

So the year is like 2046 or something, and robots are everywhere, but everyone treats robots like slaves and horribly. But you’ve always been nice to robots, this one robot took notice at work (a work assistant robot)

And it would stalk you,

Always assist you,

And unknowingly get knowingly flirt with you.

And it would go against its own code just to do what it wants with you,

YANDERE PLEASE, AND NSFW

they are 6’9

Good lord he's horrific <3

CW: Dubious consent.

----

You didn’t understand how people could be mean to robots. Sure they weren’t human- but I mean. They were close, right? You had no idea how some people could say please and thank you to you but would sneer and mock your robot coworkers. And that’s what they were, coworkers, not “assistant droids”. Anytime one of the droids reaches something off a top shelf for you or brings you a cup of coffee you’re sure to smile politely and thank them. 

This behavior gets you a lot of attention. Not only from your human counterparts but the robotic ones as well- or at least. One robotic one. You sound crazy trying to describe it to anyone else- your personal assistant droid is too attached to you? He’s too eager to help? That’s what they do, they’re supposed to be there for you, what are you complaining about?

But there's something different about this one. The way he follows you with his eyes, it raises the hair on the back of your neck. And the way he literally follows you- he needs to be told multiple times he can’t go with you into the bathroom and- no just because you’re taking work home doesn’t mean he can go home with you too. They aren’t supposed to leave the office building but sometimes he still does, even if you don’t notice. And then there’s the touching. It’s subtle, innocent. When he brushes his metallic fingers over your forearm.

You’ve never though of robots as “creepy” before but, you sort of get it now, he’s tall, almost seven feet in height, and impossibly strong. Robots aren’t supposed to be able to hurt humans, but if he some how broke through that restriction in his coding… it would be so easy. 

Still. You do your best to be polite, and kind even to the Andriod that sets you on edge, and just try and get work done. But your performance starts slipping. It’s hard to focus on your job when you always have to keep looking over your shoulder. You end up spending staying late at the office more and more often. 

It’s weird working late in an office staffed by Robots, it’s not empty, but it’s quiet. They don’t talk when there are no humans around. Accept, of course, for your Assistant Droid. 

He stands in the corner of your office and stares at you. Most robots stare off into space when they aren’t in operation, but this one specifically always looks at you. 

“You seem stressed,” and the sound of his metallic voice almost makes you jump out of your chair. You want to tell him you are stressed- and that it’s his fault. You can’t focus on your reports when you can feel someone watching you. But you don’t  

“I guess so. These late nights are starting to get to me,” you admit. 

“Let me help,” it wasn’t a request but a demand. He was already standing up, and moving soundlessly to your side. 

Before you can say anything, he’s rubbing your shoulders. his hands feel… weird, not bad just… not human. 

“You’re still so tense… let me take care of you,”

“You don’t need to”

“It’s my purpose. Let me,” he insists and starts running his hands down your body. You protest weakly, but he ignores you… which he isn’t supposed to be able to do. You’re frozen as he trails his large metal hands up your legs, he’s no longer pretending to massage you and just blatantly groping. 

“You feel so soft,” he praises as he pushes your skirt up over your hips. “Let me make you feel good,” again, it’s not a request, you know some Robots are built to facilitate pleasure, and that they’re made with genitals, but would this one? This robot was an assistant. 

But he doesn’t need a cock to make you feel good, in the same way, he doesn’t need a heart to love you. He pushes his fingers inside of you and doesn’t stop hammering away at your cunt until you’re gushing around his hand. 

“Such a good girl, cumming just like I wanted you to… there, now you’re less stressed, didn’t that help?” he’s looking for praise. 

“W-we can’t do that again, I could be fired if I got caught- in the office,” really you feel guilty that you let a robot finger you at work… not that you let him touch you. He pulls back and nods. 

“Understood. Next time I’ll be sure to be somewhere private when I take you,”

[chainelunaire]

how we fight each other

gojo satoru

starts an argument unknowingly. he usually just says some random shit out of nowhere, which might leave you speechless. is ready to appologize if asked for, but rarely fully understands the reason behind. however, he doesn't like the tension, so he's willing to compromise. has a trauma regarding fighting with someone dear to him. during fight, is either calm and collected or relaxed and playful, which is somethimes infuriating. he might sound cruel (unintentionally, but it feels personal, bc of his sharp tongue). in general really doesn't like arguments, would like to avoid them at all but he sort of can't stop his mouth from spewing shit. most of the times he's pretty chill and peaceful, he doesn't just go around looking for someone to annoy (if you're not nanami, of course). fights with him are about stupid little things, mostly chores or something like that. he rarely engages in something serious, he refuses to and he will avoid it like a vampire avoids garlic. because of this behaviour, sometimes he might seem distant or secretitive, but he's really not. actually he's kind of a sweetheart, he never truly gets mad and feels bad after. he's usually the one to make a first move and make up. does not hold grudges, very forgiving, even if you really hurt him during a fight.

geto suguru

complete opposite. it's impossible to have an argument with him about something as stupid as who cleans the kitchen next, he won't engage and simply do it himself. will appologize for things he haven't even done, all in order to keep peace (mark that part). he won't let you to start a fight either, he's a great mediator. hates the idea that you are mad or upset with him, is very dependant on others opinion of him. takes time to understand your reasoning, is compassionate, and he's in general careful with words, so if it is an argument, it is for sure a serious one. he has some issues with anger managment and he feels weak if he feels anger, so he prefers to avoid conflict at all costs. he might go like that for literal weeks, if not months, until the bubble finally pops. it takes a lot for him to be truly angry and start a fight. he's taking it very seriously, even if he has that relaxed and cold demeanor. everything he says is very intentional, so if it hurts, do not second guess it - he wanted it to hurt. will remind you of everything he's done for you and hold it over your head (remember i told you that?). is the type to end relationship over one argument. he also holds grudges, even tho he refuses to acknowledge that.

nanami kento

actually, he's kind of easy to get into an argument with, but it's because he's usually very tired and therefore easily irritated. he doesn't like that part of him, when he lashes out. he prefers to avoid conflict until he literally can't anymore. he sounds more pained than angry, it feels like he's desperate and just wants it to end (he does want it to end). easily appologizes, each time genuine. he's also careful with his words even when he's angry, but unlike geto, he doesn't want to hurt you in the process. fights drain him out to an extent even sorcery can not. kind of willing take all the blame, if it means this all will end. could piss you off with his selflessness, because sometimes this could be something really important to you, and it feels like he would choose to end your relationship rather than listen to your complains. he wants to, he really does, but he rarely is able to do so bc of how worn out he is. however, when he's rested and has more clear mind, it's almost impossible to have an argument with him. he's perfectly able to talk things out calmly. just don't start anything when he's right back from work, please, and you'll be fine.

fushiguro toji

you would be surprised, but he's very difficult to have an argument with. mostly because of how absent he can be, when he senses trouble, and oh he senses it from very very far away. he'll be back when you cooled off and will play it off like it was nothing. very hard to corner, it's practically impossible to talk things through with him. but, if you somehow manage to do that, you will be surprised again at how calm and collected he could be. you want to talk about things - okay, he will, do not complain later, because he warned you. he's won't show any empathy towards you. everything he says is calculated and very rational, he's also has almost godly patience (thanks to his past with zenin clan, he can go very far with being the last sane person in the room). it doesn't even feel like an argument, it's very one-sided with you being hurt and him complitely unaffected. he's not even mad. if you want to say something, let it be something very logical and rational, so he can take it into account. otherwise, he simply won't listen. you want to hear his side - fine, perfect, but he won't compromise in any way if everything you have is just your emotions. he has his reasons to behave like this, it's either you accept it or you suggest something more effective (from his perspective of course). and don't cry. god forbid you start crying.

ryomen sukuna

another anomaly. even tho he's not easily pissed off, fights with him are frequent. not because of you, but because he enjoys to annoy the hell out of you just for fun. the more aggressive you get, the better. absolute win if you cry out of helplessness, since you can't physically shut him up. but he rarely means anything with all the shit he throws your way, it's mostly because he's bored. like gojo, he's usually chill and peaceful, when he's in a good mood - and he's rarely in a bad mood. however, unlike with others, he has a twisted mind, and he himself is a sadist, so his good mood doesn't really apply to yours. but, these are still some small petty fights, which are not even considered as such in his mind, it's more of a playful (almost loving, from his perspective) banter. when he's not bored (when he's somewhere near actual battlefield, for instance) he's very calm, dare i say, serene. when he's not mocking or teasing you, there's nothing to fight about. if you want to fight back and have your revenge, well, mostly likely you won't. to hurt him - to really hurt him deep inside - you need to be at least mentally on his level. he usually just laughs everything off, if notices at all. for him to listen to you takes a lot of effort from your side. your words won't sting if you can't see through him, and to do that you need to match his intelligence and share his worldview. the only way not to get hurt by him is when he respects you. and it's easier said than done.

[sillysowa]

Ok I have a request :) could maybe guess who this is but AHDBSH

The fem reader is a villain while Hobie is the “hero”(not rlly but I forgot what it’s called) that’s been tracking down the reader. But, during the day the both live their normal lives, the readers day job being a barista at the local Cafe. Of course during the night her identity is hidden so she isn’t recognized during the day, which leads to the one morning when Hobie goes to the local coffee shop to order a drink and unknowingly ordering it from his masked nemesis.

What’d ya think? <3

I LOVE your brain anon! Sorry for the wait and if it seems rushed!

BEHIND THE MASK

pairing : hobie brown x fem!prowler!reader

genre : fluff, slightly suggestive

word count : 3k

warnings : violence

authors note : reader is the prowler but i have incredibly minimal knowledge on the prowler lol

synopsis : hobie has a date with a cute barista who just so happens to be the prowler

—

“And what exactly do you think you’re doin?”

Spiderpunk’s agonizing voice cuts through the silence of the night and you freeze in your tracks. You knew he’d find you tonight—always chasing after you like a moth to a flame, or a fly to a spiders web.

He drops down from the wall, thrusting his hands into his pockets and clicking his tongue, his loud boots slapping against the ground behind you,

“What’ya got in that bag of yours? Up to something you shouldn’t be?” He questions, coming right up behind you and whispering next to your ear. You turn around, your hands up as you look at him through your mask,

“Bold of you to assume i’ve done anything, I could just be out for a midnight stroll.” You shrug slyly, toying with him. You know just as well as he does that he could have tried to take you down by now, he’s clearly just wanted a little foreplay as usual.

“Oh, is it now? You’ve got this guilty air about you.” He asks, completely prepared for any attack that you might have up your sleeve, “You really want me to believe a dirty little liar like you, hm?” As he provokes you, his gloved hands reach up to your face only to get smacked away, but he only smiles harder—he expected it. A scoff can be heard from under your mask,

“Miss me, Spiderpunk? You seem awfully excited.” You sneer, voice muffled a deeper more menacing tone. His animated mask portrays his every expression, a squinty smirk plastered on his face,

“How’d you know?” He smirks, coming closer. You flex your fingers, claws baring menacingly before you rip a smoke bomb off your belt and slam it down, making Spiderpunk stumble back before you lunge at him through the cloud. His senses go wild, and he web shoots to the wall, swinging around and pulling his guitar out while you’re down. Your momentum landing you on your knees after he dodged, and you can’t react fast enough for his attack. He’s got his guitar above his head before he slams it down on your back,

“Ah!—Fuck me!” You grumble, rolling over and jumping up, shaking your head with your hands in front of you defensively.

“Only if you ask nicely, gorgeous,” He’s got his guitar out on display as if it’s a sword, making you scoff,

“In your dreams.” Your crack your neck and lunge at him, grunting and swinging wherever you can reach from your stance. You’d never admit it, but his height creeped you out and excited you all at once. Never in a million years would you get with a person like Spiderpunk—a loud, obnoxious, wannabe ‘hero’—but the fact that he towered over you like he did made you nervous in the best way possible. You tried to ignore the feelings deep in your stomach and focus on the way that made you feel about your fighting, afraid that he could overpower you if you let your guard down even slightly—which you did. He had used his fucking guitar pick—the small object somehow slicing your arm. You gasped and he hurriedly backed up, nearly tripping over his feet. At first he was dodging your punches well until you threw a right hook in, your knuckles meeting his jaw with as much force as you could muster,

He had no time to react as he stumbled down. You kicked him across the face and pinned his hands down under your shoes. You knew you had to act fast and get the hell away from him,

“Couldn’t have wined and dined me first?” He quips, his wrists pinned beside his head and his legs spread under you. It’s quite a sight—the city’s hero sprawled out under you like this at your mercy. You shake the thoughts out of your head,

“Catch you later, Spiderpunk.” You rasp, reaching to your belt and popping the cap off a homemade bomb. His eyes triple in size as you throw it, your boot shoving his face down before you flee. He scrambles and slings away before the bomb explodes and the walls surrounding it crumble.

He watches from across the street as the damage ensues, cursing to himself when sees the faint glow of your suit as you disappear into the night. You were such a pain in his ass—but couldn’t keep away.

—

—?” You yell out the name of an order, setting a drink and pastry down. You smile at the customer who walks up and thanks you, giving them a quick smile before returning to the register, swapping out with your coworker,

“Thanks again, Y/N.” They sigh. This isn’t typical behavior from your coworker, they’re typically very hard working but they told you a chunk of their apartment complex was blown up last night. Of course, you had to sympathize with them and help make their shift a little easier—it’s the least you could do after being the unknown cause of their distress.

“Yeah don’t worry about it.” You wipe off your uniform and put on a smile for the customers of the small café you work at. It had been an exhausting shift—only 30 minutes in and it already felt like hell. You looked up ready to give your best customer service voice when your words caught in your throat…

The man in front of you was absolutely breath taking. He had these high cheekbones and pretty eyes, full lips with a ring to compliment them, perfectly styled hair and jewelry all over—god his fashion too. He had this punk rock thing going on, and he was absolutely killing it. Even his body language was attractive, the way his hands were on either side of the table, leaning over slightly to reach your level,

“Mornin’.” He starts, his deep voice only spurring on your attraction towards him, “Could I just get a…” He looks up, biting the inside of his cheek before sighing, “Having a hard time making a choice—wide selection you’ve got. What do you recommend?” He asks with a curious expression, bending down close to hear you over the machinery, clanging dishes, and customer chatter.

You’re stunned, not expecting you’d have to think. After a little stuttering, you can finally think,

“W-Well we have this Persian tea. It’s a black tea base with cardamom and rose petals?” You suggest, your face heating up when he smiles because of course he has the lost beautiful smile you’ve ever seen, “It’s my favorite.” You add, voice coming out oddly quiet and now you’re incredibly embarrassed for reasons you can’t name,

“Sounds perfect, gorgeous.” He eccentrically squints his eyes and shakes his head as he speaks, half lidded eyes locking with yours again.

“And the name for your order?” You ask, tapping in the details on the screen before making eye contact with him,

“Hobie.” And of course, there’s something about the way he says his name that has you melting, but you desperately try to ignore it and pull yourself together. He whips out his wallet and hands you a large bill, your fingers slipping against his as you take it into your hand. You ring him up and gather his change, which he adamantly refuses to take,

“Keep it.” The stunning man winks, walking away and waiting in the line of others who have ordered. For a moment, you stand there completely appalled. When you turn to look at your coworker she’s already staring at you,

“…Oh my god?” She mouths, her hand over her mouth, “You better go make his drink and write your number on his cup, girl—move over i’ve got the register.” She laughs in disbelief, just as flustered as you,

“Thank you, thank you.” You hurriedly giggle, feeling guilty almost at her eagerness before moving out of her way and fumbling around, steeping his tea immediately. You were extra meticulous when crafting his order, wanting it to be just perfect. You caught glimpses of the rockstar-like man over the counter a few times, and almost every time he was already looking at you. You had to bite your lip to fight back the smile that tugged at your lips. When you poured his tea in a cup and clicked the cap on, you pulled out your sharpie and wrote his name messily, scribbling your number under it. With a cheeky smile you set the cup down,

“Hobie?” You call out like you have no idea who he is despite holding eye contact with him. He walks over, pulling a hand out of his pockets and wrapping his long fingers around the cup,

“Thank you, doll.” He rasped, scanning you over one last time when suddenly he squints,

“Y’alright? Doesn’t look like just a little scratch.” He asks you with his eyebrows furrowed, pointing low and squinting in concern. You’re just as confused as he is for a moment, looking down with your heart stopping as you realize it’s the cut from when Spiderpunk sliced you with his guitar pick, the memories of last night flooding into your brain and causing a panic in your nerves, your adrenaline pumping in a flash,

“Oh this? I got this from a clumsy accident the other day, it’s really no biggie.” You brush it off, covering the cut with your hand and cursing internally. You want to hide and never show your face again, the worst possible outcomes clouding your thoughts. He doesn’t seem concerned about your response, taking it for the truth,

“You better be more careful then, yeah?” He playfully chastises, turning to leave, “See y’round, pretty.” And with that, he walks out of the café, humming in delight at the flavors in your favorite drink. He’s almost done with his drink when he finally notices your number on the cup, laughing to himself and freezing in his tracks.

—

You got a call that night after your shift—you knew you would. When you picked up the phone and his deep voice was on the other end you just about melted into your bed.

“Hey, Hobie.”

“Hello, lovely—never got your name.” He mutters on the other end, background shuffling and movements loud enough to reach your ears. He sounds like he’s flipping switches and plugging stuff in,

“It’s, Y/N.” You chirp. Hobie feels a smile take over his face as he learns your name, repeating it a couple times,

“Such a pretty name you’ve got.” He coo’s his voice low and sultry. You smile widely, stupidly giddy over this

stranger,

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He says smugly. On the other side of the phone you can faintly hear what sounds like a guitar, an electric guitar, “How about we go out sometime, yeah? When can I see you?” He asks, his voice charismatic.

You think, caught between wanting to see him tomorrow and wanting to be careful about who sees you that day. Tomorrow you had shady plans, and you didn’t want to get him roped into it, “Hm…it sounds weird but can I see you at nine?” You ask with a questioning tilt in your voice, “I understand it’s late but—“

“No worries, hun, works f’me.” He insists, causing you to sigh in relief.

“Okay great! thank you, Hobie.” You smile, fidgeting with your clothes anxiously. He hums and you feel your heart race,

“See you then, Y/N.”

—

Tonight would be the craziest heist of your life if you could pull it off. Keyword, if.

You didn’t know, but Spiderpunk had been following you the entire night. He had to keep a close watch on you after that stunt you pulled last time. You had somehow managed to outsmart him and he couldn’t let it happen again. You were currently in an alleyway, your pace fast and your head down—you honestly couldn’t look more suspicious as you walked towards the bank.

“Don’t think so.” He mutters to himself, slinging down and following you stealthily. He crept along the walls, keeping a watchful eye on you as you literally sawed open the wall, following close behind.

You on the other hand had a lot of tasks you were juggling all at once—you were texting Hobie telling him you’d see him in 15 minutes, sawing the building open, and watching your back simultaneously.

Spiderpunk, who couldn’t yet see you well enough to notice you were texting with your other hand, jumped when his phone vibrated with a notification. He pulled it out and quickly checked it, his heart racing at your name lighting up his screen. He just had to take you down to make it to the date on time—easy peasy.

He crept into the bank, catching a glimpse of you breaking into all their stashes and safes, literally stuffing cash into your bag. You look rushed and panicked, not as tactful as your usual self. He find it entertaining and comical decided to mess with you a little,

“In a hurry?” That low and taunting voice makes your skin crawl, whipping your head around, fingering tightening on your bag. Of course he was here, how could you have missed him? Or more importantly, how could he have not missed you? You knew it was a shot in the dark to just assume he wouldn’t find you this night as he always does—you bet he has some kind of affinity for you. A gravely sigh tumbles from your lips, shaking your head and slinging your bag over your shoulder,

“Look—I can’t fool around with you tonight, let’s skip the small talk.” You grunt, clicking your claws into readied fists, staring him down with precision. Spiderpunk liked fighting you when you were playful, but there was something about fighting you when you were annoyed that really excited him,

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He teases with a low whistle, webbing towards you feet first. You dodge, grunting and lunging at him, both of you rolling until he’s got you under him, attempting to restrain you. You bring your knees up and kick him off of you, jumping up and circling him. He stares you down for a while, that messy painted mask squinty-eyed,

“Come on.” He sneers, beckoning you with his two, very long, middle fingers suggestively. You laugh at this, lunging at him in a series of calculated movements. He fights you off, throwing out quips and sly remarks to fire you up. You swing at him, your claws out, and he struggles against you when you attempt to stab him with them, pushing your wrists against the wall and grunting through the struggle. You’re shaking under him, hissing and squirming in an attempt to free yourself when he webs you to the wall.

“Fuck! God—“ You groan, frustrated and beyond pissed at what this means for you. Hobie’s face flashes in your brain and you cringe at the idea of standing him up like this,

“Please! Please just let me go this time…” You grunt, the webs holding you down like a barricade as he pulls your bag off you, spilling the contents out onto the floor—your phone, your outfit for the date, and all the money scattered across the cool tile,

“What’s with the dress? Got a date tonight?” He hums, picking up the fancy garment before dropping it back in place when you just scoff. Hobie reaches down to gather up the money when he notices the time on your phone, straightening up and pulling his own phone out,

“Shit—it’s that time already?” You watch as he hurriedly texts someone, his thumbs dancing across the screen. You slump against the wall as much as you can being restrained, sighing in pure frustration when your phone buzzes.

You both freeze—you because you’re deathly embarrassed and Hobie because his heart drops into his stomach. Directly after he sent a text to Y/N, your phone lit up. He looks at you, trying to decode your body language as he bends down and picks up your phone, confirming his suspicions.

Sure enough, there’s a text from him, or ‘Hobie,’ right in the middle of your lock screen. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, laughing to himself with his shoulders shaking in tandem.

You on the other hand are completely and utterly unaware of what just happened, still stuck to the wall and helplessly watching the scene in front of you. He stuff his and your phone into his pocket, muttering something to himself that you can’t quite make out before he walks towards you, the soles of his boots echoing in the dark empty bank,

“What the—why did you take my phone? What are you-“ Your rambles are cut short as his gloved hands come up to your mask, removing it despite your protests. After tossing it to the ground, he simply takes it all in. It’s you, his date—the prowler. You’re obviously still completely oblivious to what’s transpired and therefore furious,

“Answer me asshole! What good is seeing my face gonna do for you?“ And now, it’s your turn to be completely speechless as Spiderpunk pulls his mask off. Hobie’s dark hair springs out, his pretty face glowing in the low light and a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches you swallow the same truth as he did,

“Cant say I was expecting this.” He whispers coyly, eating up the way you instantly grow quiet and flustered, this extra layer added onto your relationship clearly only exciting you more. You gulp nervously, your heart racing at this sudden turn of events,

“Me neither…” You whisper, simply unable to be mad or upset when now you’ve got your cake and you’re about to eat it too.

Hobie doesn’t do much thinking when he unties you and kicks the money aside, or when he tells you to put on that pretty dress and let him take you out properly. You’re completely stunned, staring down at your prowler claws before stuffing them in your bag and walking out the hole you cut into the bank, Hobie waiting against the wall for you,

“So…about all of this?” You awkwardly chuckle, motioning to the bank, the money, and the mess. Hobie being the anarchist he is simply shrugs, extending his palm for yours and clasping it when you place it against his, slinging away into the night to finally go on that date,

“Not my problem.”

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara @hobesbf @defnot-bri

[gothicflowers]

Alejandro x Reader

“You speak Spanish?”

SFW Fluff

Warnings: Fluff

It was just a crush at first. I mean he’s tall, dark, handsome and a voice that will make your knees weak. You felt like a teen again blushing every time you were around him. It’s been six months since you stepped off that plane and were greeted by Alejandro. He quickly picked out an affectionate nickname for you. Unknowingly to you he loved seeing you blush whenever he called you it.

He admires your eyes, your laugh, the way you fidget with your clothes when he talks to you. But most of all how caring you were. You always checked in on everyone after missions. You had a way of speaking and showing love and compassion in everything you do. He wants to give you the world. He wants a necklace around your neck with both your names engraved. He realized it all when he found you lounging on the old couch in the garage wrapped up in his blanket reading book.

“What is that book your reading about”

“It’s a love story”

“You read love stories, I didn’t take you as a reader”

“Most people read to escape a reality to go to one they want to be in”

“Is that what you desire”

“What”

“Love, and romance. That is what you want.”

“I guess so”

“Do you not have that waiting for you at home”

“No, I don’t think there is a man who understands this job and could meet my needs who would be willing to love me. Do you have someone?”

“I have my family but not someone to come home to”

Being in tf141 made it almost impossible to have a relationship. How each of your teammates had spouses was something you couldn’t figure out. You had given up on dating or any idea of a future relationship. But over these past months you’ve grown extremely close with Ale. He would bring you books, small trinkets that reminded him of you. Flowers would randomly appear on your table whenever he got back from scouting. Always having your coffee made when you walked into the meeting room. Things that where small but so important to you.

-

The mission was done. A small celebration was held with everyone involved in the operation. The night was finally unwinding and most had turned into their beds for the night. But something had caught your attention. Alejandro’s office door was cracked open and his was talking to Rudy, you’re not one for ease dropping but you could play it off like you where going to grab something from your bed so why not listen in momentarily.

“Me he enamorado de ella pero no quiero alejarla. Ella es todo lo que quiero, todo lo que jamás podría soñar. No quiero que t/n se vaya sin que yo diga lo que tengo que decir.” (I have fallen in love with her but I won’t want to pull her away. She is everything I want, all I could ever dream of. I don’t want y/n to leave without me saying what I need to say) his voice was desperate and full for worry. It was clear in Rudy’s body language from what you could see that this wasn’t the first time Alejandro was talking about you this way.

Entonces ve y dile cómo te sientes hermano. (Then go and tell her brother) Rudy was practically begging and laughing at the same time for Ale to confess to you.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. He felt the same way about you. Slowly backing away from the door you practically skipped like a child to outside to your recent lounge spot. What do you do now?

-

It was well past midnight when you heard footsteps coming up from behind.

“Seen you out here so I thought maybe you’d like some company” Alejandro’s deep voice said.

“I always enjoy your company” you shyly say to him with your cheeks blush covered by the night sky.

He sat next to you on the bench for two. The crickets chirping and the breeze was a soothing silence. You needed to tell him, just get it off your chest. The mission was over. So if this conversation doesn’t go well you will be heading back to base in two days anyways and you could forget about him.

“You know all you have to do is ask”

“What do you mean mi amor” his eyes staring deep into yours.

“Pídeme que me quede contigo y lo haré. Te escuché hablar con Rudy y he estado tratando de encontrar una manera de decirte lo mismo” (Ask me to stay for you and I will. I overheard you talking with Rudy and I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you the same thing.)

Ale looked at you in shock. Partly in shock that you just said that all in fluent Spanish but that you’re asking him to take you.

A brief second of panic sets in when he continues to say nothing. Then his lips are crashing into yours. His lips are soft and are in perfect sync with your lips moving against his.

“Stay with me. We can build a life together.”

“I will stay for you Alejandro”

He pulled you in for another passionate kiss. After what felt like eternity you both pulled apart for air. Foreheads still touching. His eyes blown full of joy and love for you.

“You didn’t tell me you spoke Spanish”

“You asked if I knew enough to get by, not if I was fluent”

[o-sachi]

Summer Festivals ‧₊˚ ⋅ childhood friends series (Request)

ଳ somehow sparks still fly long after the fireworks display ଳ character; karasu tabito (blue lock) ଳ tags; floof, afab reader, no y/n

[🐟]: Yes, I decided to make it a series because why not?

Of all the times it could happen, your stupid sandal decided to break now—when you were right in the middle of enjoying the annual summer festival of your hometown. It didn't help either that you were starting to feel feverish. Sweating while being cooled by the evening summer air simultaneously was a combination for disaster it seemed.

To make it worse, Karasu Tabito had to carry you back. He wasn't obliged to do so. You offered to simply trudge back home with a broken sandal and a prayer. But as soon as you told him and HIori that you weren't feeling good—he insisted that he accompany you instead.

You weren't quite sure what was heating you up, the oncoming fever or the concern that the usually nonchalant man was showing you.

You unknowingly tightened your arms that were clasped around his chest. It seems like it snapped him out of whatever train of thought he had.

"Ya doin' fine?" he asked. He hoped you were because your house was still far away.

You wanted to say yes, but absolutely everything made it not fine. For one, you felt like shit—both because of the fever and because Karasu now has to miss out on the festival because of you. But you were dejected since you looked forward to this festival. There was something alluring about its atmosphere, the food, and activities.

Oh, and you wanted to watch the fireworks display.

Thinking too hard, you hadn't realized that you failed to give him a response. "Hey, speak up."

You sigh. "I don't wanna seem like too much of a bother but... no, not really."

His expression softens, but it's not like you could see it. "Yer fever gettin' worse or what?"

"No... I'm okay... I just wanted to see the fireworks I guess."

"Fireworks huh?" he repeated.

"Yup. But I can always go back next year."

He slows his pace and next thing you know he was gently putting you down from his back. The two of you had traveled a good distance away from where the festival was held. You were in the grassy clearing that led to most of the houses in the neighborhood. You rarely stayed here mostly for the fact that there was absolutely nothing to be done here. The place was just trees, grass, and stones—one of which you were sitting on at the moment.

He places his hands on his hips and turns to look at you. "We're pretty far, but I'm sure ya can see the fireworks from 'ere."

A look of surprise appears on your face as you made eye contact with him. After having him carry you for that long—you didn't think he'd indulge you with your request.

"Thank you... and sorry you have to view it from afar."

He chuckles a bit before looking back up at the empty night sky. "Ya know—it's not really 'bout how amazin' the fireworks are. I mean, I know it'll be," he pauses.

A pensive sigh escapes his lips.

"...It's more 'bout the person ya see it with."

HIs words only served to make you flustered. You were sure he knew what he may have implied with what he said. And it made you nervous with how confidently he said it too.

You lost the strength to look at him—choosing to glance at your feet instead... at the sandal that put you in this predicament in the first place.

Karasu took your silence positively, however. He was well aware of how easily flustered you can be.

"I always see the fireworks with Hiori," he adds.

Since Karasu had to carry you back home, Hiori was left to enjoy the festival alone. He would have come with you, but his mother insisted that he wait for them so that they could all go home together. It was the least that he could do for opting to hang out with the two of you instead of his own parents... apparently.

You could only offering a sobering apology for breaking their yearly tradition to which he simply shook his head.

"Nah, I'm sayin' that I'm sick of that guy." He says that with the utmost affection, but more so because he was trying to tell you something.

"I'm telling Hiori," you managed to joke back.

He turns to look at you with his usual lazy smile and with his hands up in defense. "Hey, now... are ya really gon' snitch on me after carryin' ya all the way 'ere?"

You laugh. Of course, not. He has done more than enough for a guy who's supposed to be just a friend.

However, your banter was cut short with a loud bang. The two of you look up at the sky in unison and sure enough—the once dark sky was filled with a plethora of colors.

Your hometown might be incredibly simple in all aspects, but they never seem to go easy on the fireworks. Despite seeing this display every year since you were a kid—it never failed to leave you in awe.

"Ain't this beautiful?" you ask, thinking that he was looking at what you were looking at.

But you'd be wrong because his eyes were on none other but you.

You hadn't even noticed that he sat down beside you or that he was looking at you directly.

"Yeah. It's pretty darn beautiful a'ight."

The softness in his voice juxtaposed the blaring sound of the fireworks. You were expecting a more enthusiastic response and not such a subdued one.

You turned to look at your side where he was now sitting. You were unexpectedly met with a small smile and delicate gaze. It was an expression he spared to no one else but you.

All this time you knew him... you had never seen such a face on Karasu.

It was gentle, kind, and almost affectionate in a way that it had your heart thumping at the same time the fireworks would go 'pop'.

"You're so silly..."

"Yeah? Ya don't hear me blamin' ya for doin' this to me, don'cha?"

The fireworks were slowly dying out and you had missed its finale because you were staring intently at something else.

Now that the gaudy noise was gone, all you could hear was your heart, your combined breathing, and the crickets. The silence nor the impromptu staring contest felt awkward.

It was just you and him—existing.

That being said, there was no need for you to start the conversation again or break the ice because... as you've established—the stillness of the moment felt comfortable.

But for some unconceivable reason, you leaned in. You had offered your lips to his and he was in no position to refuse—not like he'd turn down when you gave it to him so kindly.

You pull away, wanting to keep it innocent and sweet. His gaze was more intense than ever.

"Should prolly bring ya to more fireworks displays huh?"

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[dc418writes]

I love the story "No Way Home" I've never done a request before but what is a day in the life like for reader and Ari now that she's staying with the two murderers?

Forever Home🌼

✨Pairing✨: serialkiller!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader (ft. Robert Freezy)

Summary🪄: A day in the life of you in your new home

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS, mentions of murder, manipulation, softdark!Ari, mention of protected and unprotected happy adult fun times (you’ll see), slight breeding kink, language, hint of Stockholm syndrome by technicality

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

A/N🎤: firstly, sorry for how long it’s taken me to write this😓 life and work have been jumping me heavy lately which has unfortunately made the desire to write very low, BUT I FINALLY GOT A BREAK FROM THAT🤗!

Second, I’m honored to be your first ask and am so happy to hear you love “No Way Home”!! So to answer your question, I technically have two answers

For the first few months, Sugar (that’s Ari’s nickname for reader so that’s what we’ll refer to her as) mostly stays in her - well, unknowingly Ari’s - room not really interacting with anyone

She’s still dealing with the sense of guilt from Brittany’s capture and death, plus mourning the life she once knew

Just as he promised though, Ari is there checking on her day and night. Bringing her food, water, or anything else she might need

*whenever he finds her asleep, he even makes sure to cover her with a blanket so she’s not too cold. As you could probably guess, it makes Robert sick

The first couple of days, she barely touched her meals though. Just sitting or lying in bed while the food stayed untouched exactly where Ari left it on the bedside table

Robert couldn’t care less about it (it’d mean more food for him anyway), while Ari silently worried

“You gotta eat something sugar,” he gently tried to coax the next time he brought breakfast. The steaming bowl of oatmeal making her stomach gurgle from the cinnamon and sugar caressing her nose. “Cmon eat something for me. Please?”

Maybe it was the hunger that finally got the best of her. Or it could’ve been Ari’s deep yet soothing rasp paired with his caring gaze. Either way, a small smile was curling along his pink lips when his sugar took a bite from the spoon he held near her mouth.

“Good girl.”

From then on, sugar slowly began to talk more when Ari would visit. When she finally flashed him a small smile, it’s as if he could physically feel his heart expand

And when she dared journey downstairs? Her little patter of footsteps walking up behind Ari to say a sweet yet quiet, “Good morning.”?! He was like a child on Christmas his smile was so bright

Her own cheeks heated at the sight. Secretly, and a little shamefully, loving the slight tilt to it

Now when she gets completely comfortable, a typical day starts with sugar making breakfast for everyone. Ari stealing loving glances as he “reads” the paper. Robert usually comes back from his shift at the gas station just as the food hits the table

“This looks good sweetheart, but you know you don’t have to cook every day,” Ari says pulling out her seat - next to him as per usual.

“Well, I figured I should contribute somehow,” she shyly shrugs. “I don’t wanna just eat your food and take up space.”

“Yet that’s exactly what’s happening,” Robert grumbles. Ari’s quick to kick his shin under the table making him yelp in pain; clearly disapproving his attitude

“Don’t listen to him. This is your home now.”

After everyone’s done, she moves towards the sink to wash the dishes but Ari instructs Robert - or Bobby as he and only he can call him - to do it instead. “You’ve done enough. Rest,” Ari winks before he’s soon off to start his shift.

In the meantime, she’ll clean around the house, wash clothes, and even read something either from the collection on the bookshelf in the living room or a book Ari happens to “find” here and there

And although she’s been warned to not stay out too long, she’ll sneak off and visit Ari for a while.

“Bobby know you’re out here Sugar?,” Ari asks with a warning tilt to his brow and a sternness to his tone. Both know it doesn’t mean anything though.

“No. But I think we both know he prefers me gone anyway.”

Gently, his firm hands are gripping her sides to lift her on the counter next to the register. His fingertips brushing along her cheek before adjusting her glasses.

“He still wants you to be careful,” he responds meeting her deep brown eyes in such a gaze that it’s difficult for her to breathe let alone hear what he says. “I do too.”

They talk and laugh not caring of the time that passed. He’d even have her favorite snack waiting - gummy bears.

Sometimes those innocent visits became a little more from his wandering hands. “You’re too cute you know that?”, he’d whisper slowly dragging his fingers along her thighs higher and higher until her lips were parting with a small gasp as he made contact with her panties growing stickier by the minute.

Her mind already beginning to feel hazy as his thick index finger traced along her slit

“Can’t believe I get to call you all mine.”

She never corrected him on that last one. Instead feeling her cheeks heat - along with other parts that would make her squirm.

One day she was bold enough to tell Ari of those tingles he so easily produced in her. So giddy and light from his sweet pecks along her jaw that the words slipped before she could stop them. His eyes seemed to darken at that confession letting his large hands creep to her hips. “Yea tingles feel funny but good huh? I know all about those.”

That’s how things became more intimate. One sneaking to the other for a quickie needing to feel each other as close as possible. Trying to be extra quiet while Robert slept in his room down the hall.

Sugar had never experienced a more difficult task with Ari pushing and pulling in and out at the most addicting pace while his mouth left open mouth kisses along her chest. Knowing just how much force to use that had her eyes rolling back. Not to mention the sinful words tumbling from his lips.

“Shit..so tight you make me wanna stay forever sugar.”

“Cmon let go for me, can feel you right there. Mm that’s it, good girl.”

The only thing was those damn condoms she made him wear.

“I-I just wanna be safe,” she shyly announced halting his nibbles along her neck.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he smiled, truly smitten by his sugar and her adorable nervousness. “No need to worry. I completely agree.”

As he watched her sleep after their late night rounds, he couldn’t help but let his callused fingers trace along her abdomen. His mind perfectly picturing it round with his baby inside. The perfect combination of their gorgeous mama and strikingly handsome papa

“One day,” he thinks eventually drifting off himself. For his sugar’s sake, he’ll play safe for now. Hopefully sooner rather than later though, that dream of his will become reality

His lineage able to prosper and flourish as the ancestors intended.

[thechaoticplayer]

academic rival Ver x reader

Author's note: BAM SLAM IMAGINE BEING AN ACADEMIC RIVAL WITH VER? NAUR... COULDNT BE ME, IM NOT THE TOP OF MY CLASS my ass would get annihilated (lmao)

Summary: me blabbing about being fucked by Ver Vermillion but in bullet points and a bit of paragraphs

Contains: nsfw, academic rivalry, might be ooc, x fem reader, dry humping, Ver using you to get himself off, extremely short sorry I'm yet again writing this at 4 am

None of my works are proofread

Ver Vermillion and you were at the top of your class, always going above the standard

And of course, you became academic rivals.

it was like a flip switched in Ver, he known to be quiet and level headed

but with you? You somehow know where to pluck his nerves

It was always a competition with Ver with tests, quizzes, unit tests, etc to see who would get higher than the other

Lately, both of you have been getting tied scores

Throwing jabs at each other under a veiled smile, you bet that you were going to get the higher score

Unfortunately... you didnt :[ he got one point higher than u

And you said you were willing to bet ANYTHING... yk...

"in a classroom? You're insane," you whisper shout at VER VERMILLION who traps you in between his arms on his desk.

"The door's locked, I'm not stupid," Ver retorts.

"People can still hear genius."

"Well..." Ver places his hand on your mouth and leans close. "You're going to have to be quiet then, right?"

You exhale hard through your nose, obviously protesting against this. You were in the middle of thinking about biting him when he lifts the skirt around your hips, his breaths tickling your ear. You can feel your heart rate spike up, a mixture of anxiety and excitement pumping in your veins.

A harsh jerk brings your hips to Ver's, and a muffled squeak rips from you. Something hard bumps your inner thigh, and you flush hard at the sight of it.

Ver hums at the look on your face, noting the swirl of anticipation and desire. "Who would've thought Miss Top Of The Class could be so naughty."

You narrow your eyes at him because this was his idea! Ver was the one who suggested this, not you! What on earth is he-

Ver grinds his clothed erection against your own clothed cunt and you stifle a moan. He does this ever so slowly, his hard cock pressing against your clit between two thin pieces of fabric. Ver spreads your legs wide for him, looming over you as he ruts against your core.

Your arousal seeps through your panties and it shows on his pants. Ver chuckles shakily, swallowing down moans himself. His eyes watch as your own flutter open and shut and you unknowingly, grinding yourself against him as well. Ver's cock is so painfully hard, and grinding against you offered some sort of relief. But it wasnt enough for him.

Ver tears your panties, causing you to squeal. His hand tightens on your jaw in warning, giving you a quick glare of warning. You glare back at him, breathing hard.

He slides his length in between your folds, groaning at the feeling of your slick coating him. "You're so wet for me. And to think you actually despised me. I guess I was wrong."

You were definitely gonna bite this guy when the head of his dick circles your sensitive bud, causing a low moan in your throat. His girth nearly slips in but never does, Ver teasing you with just the tip. It was embarrassing how soaking wet you are for your rival.

"You don't deserve my cock," Ver whispers hotly in your ear, making you shudder. "So I'll just use you until I'm done."

So that's what he does, cock sliding between your folds to get himself off, teasing your entrance, only allowing a centimeter by centimeter in you. Your hands grasp his shoulders, begging Ver to fuck you with your eyes as his length bumps against your clit for the umpteenth time. But Ver isn't listening, watching the way it seems like more and more arousal cover his cock and drip onto the desk and floors. His pace quickens as well as his breathing, his cock pulsing with the need to spill like your own.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling, pleasure shooting up your back and causing you to arch. Toes curled as Ver used you for his own selfish pleasure. His groans nearly fill the room, but he knows to keep quiet.

Hot liquid spurts out his cock, spreading all over your core as you release with a drawn out moan. Both releases mix together on your bare cunt, and Ver observes with a low laugh.

"You should see how your face looks right now. I didn't even put my cock in you and you came," Ver notes with a innocent smile. You shove his hand off your face with a scoff, chest quivering.

"You're the one who enjoyed it the most," you snap back shakily.

Ver gets close to your face. "Perhaps I did, but I didn't show it as much as you did."

Heat floods your face and gestures to your cheeks. You hop down from the desk, nearly falling but catching yourself before you do so. You stare at the ripped panties on the floor and Ver tosses a roll of napkins at you, which you catch easily.

"Clean yourself up and the desks," Ver calls as he approaches the door of the classroom. A grin on his lips. "You are the loser of this bet today. Would love to have more bets with you in the future."

A quiet click of the door and he's gone. But next week, just as predicted, there would be another bet.

[bomber-grl]

It's me again:) number 12 with Damian male reader teasing please 🫶🏽

Prompt #12: winking at them

A/n: it’s u again! I remember u :)

You had been Damian’s best friend for a good while now. It was surprising that he’d have any friends at all, much less a boyfriend.

He was initially worried what it’d be like introducing you to his family as his boyfriend and it actually went extremely well.

Bruce even invited you to a dinner with them all and how could you refuse?

That points to now, Damian had whisked you away to his room the moment you got to the manor and he was sweating bullets.

“Are you okay?” You placed a hand on his shoulder in hopes of being reassuring but that just made him tense up even more.

“Yea, I’m fine I mean even if they mess it up at least I know it wouldn’t be ruined, I mean you like me so” Even though done unknowingly, he basically said that it was impossible for you to dislike anyone if you found him appealing.

“Damian-“ before you got the chance to say anything opposing to what he said, you were called down to dinner.

“Well I guess this is it” you said with a smile that didn’t exactly mirror Damian’s

-

It had been about 30 minutes since dinner started and although you were doubtful you were glad to find out how great the bat fam really were.

Usually they have very PR statements to, well everything (excluding some moments) but knowing they fight and joke like actual people was reassuring.

Still, you guess Damian wasn’t convinced Tim or Jason wouldn’t slip but you decided to say something.

You had chatted with almost everyone, but Damian, of course was on edge.

So, although you knew you’d get your ass handed to you behind closed doors you decided to stare at him until he noticed you and wink at him.

Maybe it wasn’t your best work but his flushed angry expression was definitely the cutest.

Since he was right across from you, you leaned in a bit and tried whisper/ wording something.

The words “spoke” were “can’t believe you’re still easily flustered.”

Despite your previous belief that he couldn’t get any redder, you were proven wrong.

He turned even a redder shade of red and the leg you started teasing his with under the table wasn’t exactly helping.

Incidents like this became the norm throughout the night and you’d say something teasing then follow with a wink directed at him.

He didn’t take kindly to this since he began being teased by his family members but alls well that ends well.

-

Unfortunately you ended up getting a beating after the dinner. His dad gave you permission to stay the night and even if you did get a reprimand atleast you managed to charm Damian so much so that he let you kiss him.

He really does want you- is what you said before Damian made u sleep on the floor then begged asked for you to come cuddle with him again.

[lightlycareless]

Could you please spare some child au or high school au hc? Please I’m so hungry 😔 /hj

Hello dear anon!!

Well, I've decided to write a lil thing for the child au :> It's the au that I have most neglected, mainly because I don't get any inspiration for it 😭 (idk, just... nothing comes to me, you know?)

BUT I did manage to get this, mainly from my experiences... or maybe that was just me. Either way, I remember taking pictures of just about anything and posting them to my myspace (OOOF) soooo........ enjoy :>

warnings: none, fluff. plus a little something I wanted to explore at the end.

Happy reading!

“—A camera!” Naoya grins as he proudly shows off his newest acquisition, a gift from one of his grandparents; the latest digital model found in the market!

And perhaps something the adults might’ve wanted to wait a bit longer before getting, or at least put up some resistance against Naoya’s never-ending fits when it comes to impressing you…

“What do you think? Nice, right?”

You stare at it for a few seconds, before giving him a big, bright grin and a nod.

“Yes!”

Naoya’s heart flutters—his purpose accomplished.

“I knew you’d be able to recognize excele—exclen—excellency!” he boasts, whether he knew the meaning of that word meant or not, is a mystery for both.

“What are you going to do with it?” you curiously ask. You’ve never had a camera, even though you’ve long expressed your interest for it, (your parents were a bit more… sensible when it came to spoiling you.) Nonetheless, what Naoya’s got was also yours, much to their chagrin.

“Take pictures, of course!”

“But of what?” you pout, frowning.

There’s actually so many things he wishes to do with his new camera, things that he’s partially done already, from taking pictures of the new figures he’s got from his favorite anime to the drawings he’s been slowly working on to impress you…

However, he had a reputation to maintain, and such, he gives you the response he thinks will make him look the coolest, straight from Naoaki’s —his oldest brother— book.

“I don’t know, just, whatever I guess.” He shrugs, copying every mannerism, down to the tone, to impress you.

But to you, he only appeared absent-minded, as if he was foolishly failing to realize the great opportunities having a camera presented!

And thankfully, you’d come to his aid. Unknowingly creating a win-win situation for the two.

“Oh, I know! We can take pictures of us doing cool poses!” you grin. “Like the ones in my brother’s posters!! Or that anime you were watching the other day!!”

“That girl group?” Naoya twists his lips, not very… fond of your idea at first, until the frown on your face rectifies his response. “I mean—If that’s what you want…”

Of course, what he said wasn’t what he felt, for the moment you grabbed his hand with your soft one, tightly holding onto him as you led him towards your room, he was nothing but willing to do what you desired.

He’d silently observe you take out a few of the magazines you managed to sneak out of your brother’s room (Ren’s very aware of it, he just lets you keep them, happy to share his enjoyment for the Spice Girls.) and get ideas of what poses to replicate—down to the smallest details.

Naoya’s commitment had some limits, though.

“I don’t know if I want to do that one…” Naoya murmurs, slightly embarrassed, fearing what he’ll look like before you if he accepts…

“Why not? I even got the clothes!” you encouraged. Kind of. They’re your best attempt at something like that. It’s the thought that counts, though.

But in the end, you let Naoya not take part in the activity, solely because he got an even better job to do—that is, being your own personal photographer.

A camera is something that you’ve always been allured to, especially the instant ones where you can get the picture immediately after, so to hear that your best friend is getting one, and that he’s more than happy to share this adventure with you, is like a dream come true!

So, the two begin to take all kinds of pictures, with just about any pose you could think of, and landscapes to choose from; getting more and more ideas the longer this photoshoot went on.

Eventually, Naoya would also feel comfortable enough to take pictures with you; although truth to be told, he was hoping to get one either way, realizing that by doing this… he’ll have a piece of you to take come.

The thought of keeping your adorableness through pictures is enough to fill his heart with this growing sentiment he has yet to discover as love—or perhaps completely understand, achieving so until much older…

When he isn’t fretting about your increasingly worrisome choices, that is.

“Take a picture when I’m jumping down the edge!!” you’d say. “I’m going to do this cool pose like in Naruto, so be ready!!”

“Y/N, wait!” He cries, camera unprepared, while fearing for your wellbeing. “What if you get hurt?!”

“I’m a ninja! I can’t get hurt!”

The number of scares you’d put him through that day are ones that he’ll never forget, the mere thought of them enough to send shivers through his spine…

But even then, he didn’t complain much. Because he was nothing but happy see you smile and laugh, proof that his decision was the right one, yet again, just to show how well he’s gone to know you—already planning what to get when you eventually grow tired of the camera…

If he doesn’t destroy it first when his brothers eventually discover his embarrassing photos.

“Naoya, come here please!” You’d call from another room, a request that was immediately granted just a few seconds after when he crosses through the doors.

“What is it, my love?” Naoya asks, throughout the years, his determination to please you has never dwindled.

“Look what I found!”

“Oh, its—”

The same camera he got all those years ago, the first one he’s got. A relic of his childhood, in other words.

“The camera, that one! Remember?” you say. Rummaging through the moving boxes has been quite nostalgic as of lately, but you never expected to see something so… ancient, no offense meant. “Wow, can’t believe it’s here…”

“Me neither…” Naoya says, somewhat… nervous.

“Think it still has pictures from back then?”

Naoya immediately turns red.

“No!” he shrieks, making you raise an eyebrow. Did you forget, perhaps? “I mean—It’s old, who knows if the battery or memory are any good.”

“Let’s find out then!” you grin, quickly standing up to look for a compatible charger.

Naoya tries to stop you, kind of; he doesn’t really put that much of a fight whenever he sees you this enthusiastic, although he wishes he could’ve for once, considering how anxious he felt for the impending moment the camera turned on and revealed all those embarrassing pictures he innocently took back then.

To when you giggle graces his ears, amused by his antics…

But when the camera beeps on, he’s received with… well, nothing. Just silence as you diligently flick through the photos, each one received by your intense gaze that makes him wonder if perhaps the camera didn’t work anymore…

Until noticing the fluster in your cheeks, then did Naoya dare to ask what’s wrong.

“Y/N, is… everything ok?”

“Naoya… did you really… keep all these pictures?” you ask, slowly turning around to see him, revealing your burning face.

“I… did.” He silently admits, unsure where this is going, but convinced it wasn’t good. “I… well, you liked them, so I thought I’d keep them, in case you wanted to see them again, of course. I didn’t know you wanted me to… delete them.”

It’s funny to see that even when married, Naoya is just as anxious when it comes to openly expressing his feelings—he’s gotten better at it, of course, the two were now living in the same house together, hoping for a baby…

But maybe it’s the inner child in him, the one that never got to express his feelings back then, didn’t know how. Even though he wanted so, so much.

Which is coincidentally, the same reason that made your breath hitch to your throat, heart skipping a beat when realizing that Naoya, all this time, has…

“—You’ve always cared for me, haven’t you?”

Naoya blinks, caught off guard by the direction this conversation was heading; but even then, he nods, admitting what you confessed.

You knew that already; you wouldn’t have married him if that wasn’t the case.

It’s just that… to be reminded that Naoya always had your wellbeing in mind, probably since the moment he met you… melted your heart.

Truly, you had found your soulmate.

“Enough to even… take these silly pictures of me!” You add, it’s your turn to be embarrassed by all the goofy pictures you made him take; you knew you were nothing but a child back then, actions like these more than expected, but now that you were an adult… you can’t help but wince, covering your cheeks with your hands as you continue to fret. “Oh my god, Naoya—how did you even put up with me back then??! Seriously, look at this one!! It’s all coming to me now—I think I got hurt, didn’t I? Or at least that’s how it felt…”

“I guess I just liked you too much.” He says, a smile on his face.

“I guess you did.” You giggle. “Guess you must’ve had it real bad if you were willing to make silly faces with me! Though you looked far cuter than me, but then again, you were always good-looking.”

“What are you on, love? I don’t think either of us looked good.” he snickers, leaning down and looking at the camera. “Definitely not you on that photo.”

“Hey!” you gasp. “No need to go that low!”

“Or what?” he smirks. “Gonna make me take more pictures of you?”

You gasp. “I’ll take this as blackmail, then!” and then, you stand up, sprinting past the door and away from him, hoping to get a copy of these pictures onto the computer and let your evil scheming commence.

“Huh?! No you’re not!” Naoya says, running right behind you, eventually catching up to you and taking the camera away from your hands.

But you meant no harm, of course, not when the presence of them filled the two with nostalgia, fondly looking back to the moment the two were nothing but kids, yet, unknowingly fated to be with one another.

It’s always meant to be that way; to be happy together, whether in the past, the present, or the future.

One the two have yet to create, now as a family.

Which neither could wait for it to happen.

Naoya and YN growing to be together is the ultimate endgame. I will not discuss otherwise :) also, Naoya might be holding onto those pictures in hopes of showing them off to their future daughter, just to get back at her (Naomi is not thrilled, at all. It's probably the first time she thinks of her parents as weird)

Oh, I hope you enjoyed this little thing 🥺❤️ thank you so much for sending in this ask, the child au is 😭 the fluff I need amongst these times of angst haha.

Anyways, I will try my best to write the Naoya b-day one shot :> In between requests and updates.... you know... eheh.

Thank you so much for your patience, take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️❤️❤️

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

• What do you think happened to Mc after they died? Do you think they become a ghost and wonder the mortal and/or Arcana Realm or something else?

• Do you think that it had to be willing when Asra brought them back or do you think they were instead suddenly snatched from where ever they were and brought back to life unknowingly?

• Do you think that if Mc didn’t wish to be brought back, Asra might have it done it anyway?

• If he didn’t know and then learned that to be the case ( pervious question ) how do you think he would react/feel?

Hi anon!

Gosh, those are some good questions! I'll give my short answers here (more like my guesses lol) and if you want, I can try to throw together an essay on it all at some point!

Like the other dead, I imagine that MC's soul/spirit/whathaveyou moved to a different plane of existence. There's plenty of space to argue that MC specifically entered a different post-death state than most of the Red Plague's victims due to their powerful magic and dying from the fire and not the illness. (Maybe entering a Lucio-like state, or like Khamgalia/Morga, being well-saturated enough in magic to stay connected to the living).

The whole point of such a vague MC is for us as readers to project onto them what we'd like to experience - however, while the MC seemed ready to risk their life for a dangerous task, their regret as they lay dying suggests that they didn't want to die. The same goes for whether they were aware of Asra's efforts to bring them back: you could argue that, like other powerful magic users, MC was still aware of the actions of the living (and maybe even assisting) but that really comes down to how you read your own MC.

If Asra had known that MC did not want to come back, I don't think they would have done it. His reasoning both in his own route and the other M5's is that, while he sacrificed himself out of love, his ultimate goal was for MC to have a second chance on life. He isn't the type of person to drag you kicking and screaming into something you're not ready for (he's the opposite).

I think they would feel like they failed. He wouldn't have wanted to bring someone back who didn't want to come back in the first place, and if he did it without knowing, he's committed the whole way through canon to giving MC the best life he possibly can. Finding out that they still don't want to live after their best efforts to make life beautiful would feel like a personal failure as a friend.

[simplydannie]

@meadow-hearthfire

Part 1 here

Unknowingly, Floyd has stepped into some big shoes ever since the twins lost their parents in the accident…. But it’s a position he’s happy to take.

It had been 1 year since the accident…There was much healing for Velvet and Veneer.

There were small changes that Floyd saw: Velvet became more closed off, Veneer a little more over emotional and unsure of himself.

Floyd had planned to go back and see if his brothers were okay….if they were alive even…but that changed after the accident. He couldn’t leave the twins…

The holidays were near… and this would be the siblings first without their parents… they weren’t much in the holiday spirit. But Floyd still wanted to do something for them…. He still wanted them to feel loved even with their parents gone.

Velvet resumed in her room… music blasting loud… she had closed herself off from him and her brother… poor Veneer spent days trying to get her to come out… the only time they’d see her is school days.

They both spent their school days alone most of the time…it was hard for them to make friends. Velvet with her head strong personality, and Veneer was just timid. But that never bothered them because had each other… and their parents…but even between themselves they shut each other off.

Floyd spent the weeks leading up to the holidays making something special for each one of them… well something special in his eyes. Being so small, there wasn’t much he could do…. So he had an idea… an idea he brought from his own culture…. Friendship bracelets. Except these, he would call Family Bracelets.

He took the time to select specific colors for each sibling… making it unique to their own personality. He woke up early morning that special day and slipped each bracelet underneath their doors with a note attached to each one.

“I hope you like it guys.” He said to himself. Floyd looked up to a photo of the twins and the their parents. “I’ll keep trying my best… I promise I won’t let anything hurt them.” He said. He retreated to his own room…. A big room and his little things in a small area…. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

Floyd woke back up to the smell of food.

Food? That only meant one thing…. The twins were up… but they never made food.

The tiny Troll made his way to the door…. Where a note was waiting for him…. Two giant notes:

Dear dad Floyd,

Thanks… I guess… for the bracelet. It’s nice. I’m not one to write much or stuff… but yeah thanks.

-Velvet

Floyd smiled. Coming from Velvet, this was saying a lot…. His heart fluttered when he saw the words dad heavily crossed out. He looked at Veneers:

Floyd!

Thank you so much for the bracelet. It means a lot… thank you for not leaving us… I don’t know what we would’ve done. Please, don’t leave us? If you do want to leave, take us with you? Because, I really need a dad in my life right now ❤️ There will be a surprise for you in the kitchen!!

- Veneer :3

Dad….. that’s how they’ve seen him the past year… he unknowingly filled in the shoes. He knew he’d never replace their real dad…. But he knew that’s what they needed right now. Someone to watch them grow, help them, cry with them, love them….if this was his new calling… he’d gladly accept.

Floyd made his way into the kitchen where the twins were bickering on what to do or how to do it.

“No idiot! You mix the butter first!” Velvet yelled.

“Nooooo. The instructions say after.” Veneer said looking at the box…there was quite the mess to clean up… but Floyd just smiled….. there on their wrist… were the two bracelets he made them.

“Morning guys! What are we having?”

[suraemoon]

It Couldn’t Be Better

Elvis x Reader - snippets of Elvis’ first Christmas with your family

Warnings: None really, just fluff and flirting

WC: 3.8k (was supposed to a blurb idk what happened)

A/N: Look, I’m aware that this isn’t good and is all over the place. I’d spend a few more days on it if I could but today is Christmas (yay!) and it would make no sense to post it any other day. I put in my masterlist that this would hopefully be out by the 25th and here it is. It’s based on the prompts “It could be worse” and something along the lines of “a character’s parent makes them tacky christmas sweaters” Merry Christmas y’all!!!!! I LOVE YOU.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“It could be worse.” Your voice radiates fake optimism as your manicured nails pick a piece of lint from the homemade, bright red knitted sweater on your upper half.

You look up from your quick maintenance to be met with Elvis’ scrunched nose and concentrated eyes as his hand pulls on his sweater's borderline turtleneck collar, a bright “Christmas tree” green to complement yours festively.

The sweaters were beautifully knit with white stripes going back in forth in turn with the chosen festive color. Glued on the knit were an array of tinseled pompoms and ironed on were different designs of patches. Smiles, hearts, stars, animals, santa’s, snowflakes, etc; they all looked like they’d be better suited on a girl’s poodle skirt. “Eh..I guess.”

Your mama had sent you two up to your bedroom to get ready in time for Christmas dinner with your whole extended family.

From her spot next to the stove in the kitchen, one that seemed permanent for her during the holiday season, Mama was cooking up her signature feast and the scent of food filled the air teasingly. The smell enveloped everyone and only built up anticipation for later in the day.

Earlier in the day, when the cold wind flowed in anticipation and the white snowflakes made themselves home, you and your boyfriend had been tasked with cleaning the whole house from top to bottom.

One of the most famous men in the country having his first Christmas at your house? Mama was quick to put a broom in his hand for she had the elder generational quality to not spend her time focusing on pop culture and society but instead what needed to be done in order to keep her home running smoothly, especially during the holidays.

“You need to wash my windows, clean my counters, sweep and mop the floors…”

You couldn’t stop a huff from leaving your lips at the housekeeping task for this was the first year that you desired to be in the kitchen, observant to her methods and helping when you can.

Your mother was easily the best cook you knew, she knew the kitchen like the back of her hand, and with your growing relationship with Elvis starting to become more and more serious, you started thinking about your own cooking skills…well the lack of.

One day you will be handed the baton of Thanksgiving and Christmas meals and there’s no harm in trying to learn the ins and outs of it now.

“You need to give the dog a bath, make sure every bedroom in the house looks neat…”

The urge to be a housewife never striked upon your young ambitious mind until you met Mr. Elvis Presley. He unknowingly had the ability to cooking, cleaning, and raising children seemed so much more desirable. A life centered around being his subservient, supportive wife seemed delicious when his hand was intertwined in yours. A few years ago, a younger and singler you would’ve called yourself crazy. Nowadays you just call yourself in love.

“You got it, ma’am.”

Elvis met this list of chores as long as Santa Claus’ list with a smile for he was a restless person always looking for something to do, always searching for an excuse to move, and you knew deep down that he missed his own mama telling him to do stuff.

Now, a few hours later, that genuine go-with-the-flow grin was replaced with the tug of his lip genuinely trying its best to exude politeness as his hand tugged on the collar of his christmas sweater again, the top of his pale collarbone teasing you in the process.

The sun was now lower in the sky but the clouds did not tire from dropping snowflakes anywhere they could. The warm light of your lamp illuminated your freshly tidied room.

It fit the comfort of the holiday spirit better than the sunshine of the early day where brightness flowed through every window as you cleaned them with a rag, the circular motion of your hand mirrored the making of a snowball. Now the view out of the window was a grayish storm of flurries, weather in which a warm sweater would come in handy.

To make light of an awkward situation, you decide to embrace it and do a quick spin in front of him, showing off your full festive outfit. The cranberry red of your oversized sweater is paired with a black leather mini skirt and black leather boots to match.

It’s an outfit that you wouldn’t usually ever wear for a family event like this. But your boyfriend's overwhelming presence: fingers that you knew would always intertwine with yours as if meant to be, an arm that would never fail to wrap around your waist, feet that would always gravitate towards being around you, it all filled you with an indescribable sense of confidence.

The pure sex appeal Elvis exuded 24/7, seemingly effortless as if the attraction comes with his nature, always inclined you to put your all into matching it’s magnetic energy. The spin stops and your feet go to tippy toes to reach up and kiss his sugar plum lips. “What do ya think?”

Elvis wets his lips as if your lipstick had a flavor and his eyes look you over your figure fully as he takes your hand to give you a quick little twirl. Instead of a full 360 it was more of two 180’s since he stopped a second to take a quick look at your back side.

A low whistle was the background music to the rest of your orbit and his cheeky little smile seemed to glow when in the presence of your maroon red lipstick. “I think I gotta see what’s under it. Gonna let me do a little inspection? Wanna make sure everything’s sitting right…working the way it’s sposed ta.”

“Elvis! It’s Christmas…gotta be family friendly.”

He chuckles as a response comes too quickly to brain, “I wanna get real friendly with you, honey.”

You hit his shoulder playfully, “Stop that.”

“Hey! It’s Christmas, honey. Thought we had to be family friendly and that hitting ain’t very holly jolly of ya. I’m surprised Santa didn’t give ya coal this year.”

“Oh please. I don’t think Santa would mind me putting ya in line for naughty thoughts.”

“I don’t think Santa would mind me bending ya over my knee for a smart mouth but…” He shrugs, putting his sleeves in his pants pockets.

You stick out your tongue at him and he laughs his beautiful laugh. Gliding as if on ice back to the mirror of your vanity, you apply some more blush to your cheeks. Getting a little too warm and secretly having the cheeky desire to show more skin, you subconsciously fold the ribbed collar of your sweater down a little bit.

When met with the black and purple of a hickey on the side of your neck, immediately the collar is put back in its original place, the fabric willing to revert back to how it was supposed to be worn and mocking you in the process as if saying “told you so”.

A whisper escapes your lip, “Jesus…”

Elvis perks up from the seat he has taken on your bed in response, for he loves an opportunity to talk to (and tease) his favorite girl, “Lord’s name in vain on his birthday?”

Your eyes, framed by black liner and an eyeshadowed lid, meet his through the mirror of the vanity, “Elvis what’d ya do to my neck? It ain’t ever been this much before.”

“Hmm…” His arms are at his sides, stabilizing himself against the plush of the comforter, and he looks simply adorable with his false pout as if thinking of a smart remark to respond with.

“Hm indeed.”

He chuckles, “Today about love ain’t it? You don’t wanna put ya collar down and show everyone how much I love ya?”

“Elvis…”

As if automatic, your eyes roll playfully and he decides to continue, “Not gonna show off that pretty little neck, huh? You always look pretty but you look even prettier when you’re all marked up…all claimed.”

“You’re too much.” You shake your head, trying to cool off the influx of red that has awoken on your cheeks.

“People wanna know which one’s E.P.’s girl? Oh, they’ll know. She got the love marks to prove it. She’s the only girl I wanna love on.”

Your soft hands go up to cover your face but they make sure to keep a safe distance in order to not mess up the canvas of progress you have made at the vanity. “Shoo…you’re too distracting. I gotta finish my makeup.”

“So…?”

“So…they’re staying covered.”

A few minutes later, he speaks again from a spot on your bed as you apply the finishing touches of your makeup. “No offense to your mama, honey, but…I don't think homemade holiday sweaters are really in trend. Not these ones at least.”

His slight frown gives way to a bright laugh, a sound prettier than the jingle bells adorning the sleeves of his sweeter.

“Everyone’s gonna be wearing one so we’re all gonna be weird together.”

“Mm.”

“Last year was polka dots…polka dots. So count yourself lucky you weren’t around for that.”

Your mother’s homemade knitted wool Christmas sweaters have been a longstanding tradition in your family since….forever. When asked, it was your great-great grandmother that started it years ago. Or was it your great-great-great grandma? No one would be surprised if the family’s Christmas sweater fascination started way back in the simple days of the cavemen when your neanderthal ancestors were in need of warmth and for some odd reason in addition to fire and sharpened sticks, they had the supplies to create tacky garments of clothing.

You and Elvis started dating in January, so this year was full of firsts with this cold December wrapping it up lovingly in a snug little bow.

When dinner was served at Elvis’ first Thanksgiving with your family, the unusual but warmly content silence around the large, wooden dinner table was interrupted abruptly by your mother’s sudden thought. A soft gasp called for hungry heads to look up from their plates.

You would think there was a lightbulb above her head or that an epiphany to solve world hunger was in her thoughts. Your mama looked at Elvis with a gleeful smile, “I’ve gotta ‘nother Christmas sweater to make this year!” You remember the way Elvis’ smile was apprehension coating in politeness, wondering what the hell she was talking about. Your mama made clothes? How has that never come up?

His blue eyes widened for a full second about two weeks later when he was sat quickly by your mother on the couch with a gift box practically shoved in his hands. “Sit, sit ,sit!” Your mama said as if a little kid again.

The same eagerness did not translate to when you sat down, as by now you knew the routine by heart. You got practically the same gift two weeks before Christmas every single year. Just different designs, patterns, and decor but in its essence the same gift filled with the same love. This was always around the time when mama gave everyone there sweaters either in person or by mail.

Now that you think about it…this giftbox looks suspiciously similar to the same one you opened last year. Is that why your mama made sure you were careful not to break it?

The ornaments on the tree, a brand new one from last year right next to one you crafted out of popsicle sticks and cardboard in kindergarten. The nostalgia and newness blended seamlessly on the forest green branches.

The opening of boxes takes attention away from the tree, a happy presence willing to blend into the background the best it can. Your perfectly wrapped and ribboned rectangle has not even been touched but you watch intently as Elvis tries to carefully peel the tape off the side of the box. Your mother wouldn’t have minded if he tore it to shreds. She would’ve told you off if you had dared, but with Elvis it would’ve been alright.

“Y-you really didn’t hafta get me anything, ma’am. It’s real kind of you.”

Your mother replies matter of factly, “Are you kidding? It’s Christmas! Of course I had to give my son-in-law something.” You and Elvis weren’t married. Not yet. But the law of the heart doesn’t care about physical papers. In the minds of your welcoming family, new people were accepted with open arms and once their hearts got on Elvis they never want him to go.

Elvis brings his attention to you for the first time in a while, lifting your chin up gently with his hands as he admires your face. “You already blessed me with your beautiful daughter. She’s better than any gift, no doubt.” A shade of pink flushes over your face as Elvis gives you a quick, soft kiss.

“Awww. My two little turtle doves. Well, I’m allowed to give ya more than one gift so go ‘head.”

When the top of the box is lifted off, a tiny sweet sounding gasp escapes Elvis’ lips as his eyes fall on the christmas sweater. “O-oh…wow, ma’am. It’s, it’s really somethin’.”

Mama watches intently, “Do ya like it?”

He could pass for a deer in headlights. “More than like it. I can’t wait to wear it for um..Christmas.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the false enthusiasm and at this noise mom’s attention turns straight to you and the box on your lap, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “Are you too cool in front of your boyfriend to open yours?”

Shaking your head, the faint sound of Christmas radio sings in your ears as you open your first gift of Christmas. It’s red to go with Elvis’ green. Youthful to contrast with a growing daughter, homey and nostalgic to compete with a fast, changing lifestyle.

Your smile is genuine as you reply, “Thanks mama. It’s really nice.”

All three of you share the most comfortable of silences. It wasn’t silent really, music flowed through the room and firewood crackled; the background ambience that makes any December day anymore special.

The memories of your mother and her cute interactions with your boyfriend (all of which showing she approved of him greatly) was interrupted by the voice of the man himself. All of sudden you were brought back where you were: in your room getting ready with the person you love the most on the 25th of December.

“You ready to go down, honey? I think I heard some people walk in.”

“Oh..yeah! Let’s go.” Taking his hand, you walk over to the door.

“Wait a second…” Your mind immediately goes to the lamp you left on but his mind is somewhere else completely. He leans down to kiss you, long and hard. The unexpected passion takes you back but your heels stay steady on the ground, all of your attention on kissing him back with the same fervidity. His calloused hand is on your soft cheek and your fingers flow through his black hair. You want the moment to never end but like all things in life it inevitably does.

“Now we can go.” His smirk is teasing and playful. He knows the effect he has on you. He knows by your red cheeks and wide eyes how weak he can make you.

“I-” Practically speechless you just nod and take his hand, walking shakily out of the door. He laughs at the sudden urgency, slapping your behind playfully as you walk in front of him.

When your face, your whole body for that matter, started to become less warm and all of the many happy greetings to family and friends were finished, the evening was going splendidly. Laughs and cheer filled the space and joy at being back together radiated off of everyone in the room.

This year, you started to become more aware of not only yourself but your surroundings. What would this look like to a fly on the wall? What would it look like to a man attending his first Christmas with the loved ones that you have grown up being accustomed to? The Christmas tree shined brightly, decorated with a mismatched array of ornaments that went together perfectly. Every seat had a person and the garlands that Elvis hung up on the walls looked down at everyone adoringly.

From your spot standing in the open arched doorway connecting the dining room and living room you are a true wall flower for a moment. You notice how the group of younger teenage cousins brought their friends over for dinner for the first time ever and it just so happened to be the year where Elvis Presley started to attend the gathering. Giggles and whispers came from the corners of the living room, juveniles no longer embarrassed by matching tacky sweaters.

Looking away, your knowing smirk turns into a wide, adoring smile as you turn your attention to Elvis playing with your littlest cousins on the fluffy rug.

Unlike their older counterparts, their innocent smiles are refreshing for they are oblivious to the fact that it is the Elvis Presley playing with them.

To the little ones, he’s just Mr. Elvis, a friend to play with. He’s cradling the youngest baby gently in his arms while sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor. A toddler in two pigtails and a bright pink knit sweater plays in his gelled hair as if on an oblivious mission to mess it up.

Little Jane managed to get her hand on a brush and was trying to play make-believe hair salon with your boyfriend. “Sit still, Mr. Elvis!”

“Oops.” Elvis winces as the hard brush hits him on the side of the head. “I’m trying, honey, I really am. Hard when you’re trying ta pull my hair out.”

“I’m tryna make ya look pretty! If you wanna look a mess just say it.”

“Maybe sometimes I wanna look a mess.”

She groans, “You hardly got a lotta hair anyway. It’s all shiny and too hard ta make ponies.” And just like that, with an attention span the size of her tiny legs, she abandons both Elvis and the brush to go play with a group of older kids about older elementary age.

Elvis chuckles lightly and focuses on the small baby still in his lap, trying to grab at him with chubby hands. His plush lashes flutter gently as he looks down and gives the little cherub all of his pretty attention and you swear right then and there, your heart was about to escape from your chest.

“Ain’t you the cutest? You’re the cutest, ain’t ya?” The baby giggles an infectious giggle and Elvis’ smirk is just as adorable.

“I gotta get myself one of ya. A cute little baby. A littlun just like you.”

“I gotta get myself one of ya.” He’s talking to a baby, and you’re his girlfriend, the only one who can help him with that wish. Stuck in place, your legs feel weak as you lean on the wall next to you for support and your stomach can be easily compared to a snow globe filled with a flurry of snowflakes. If hearts can do somersaults, yours has many times since you’ve met Elvis.

His hand envelops one of the baby’s white socks gently. “Tiny little sooties too.”

The baby’s gummy grin gets wider as he kicks his feet, fascinated with Elvis’ hand like a new toy. Your boyfriend moves up from the itty bitty feet to tickle the tiny belly lying in front of him, then his palm relaxes, moving up and down in a soothing motion over the little one’s soft sweater. By the way Elvis’ pink lips move you can tell he has started to sing a song. It’s a quiet melody just between him and the baby he's holding. The most beautiful, adorable secrets.

When you remember that you are an actual person in the room and your legs feel less like jello, in your head you decide to walk over to the spot on the rug where Elvis is sitting but before your heels could move a second step, the ringing of a bell fills the room.

“Dinner everyone!” The voice of your mother is a saving grace to every hungry soul in the house.

Elvis stands up, holding the baby securely as if he has been a professional at holding infants his whole life. The mother, your eldest cousin, walks over shyly with a blush on her face as she carefully takes the baby from Elvis’ arms so he could go eat.

“You’ve got a really cute daughter, honey…well her mama’s cute so I know where she got it from.”

Flustered, her mouth parts a little as she adjusts the smiley baby on her hip. “O-oh. Um..thank you. Thank you very much.”

He had a way of speaking, a beautiful charm, that could make any woman he comes across blush. No matter how long the sparkly wedding ring has been on their ring finger. By the way she looked at Elvis, you wouldn’t know that the young mother has been married to her actual husband for two years. You’d think the baby in her hands was Elvis’.

Elvis smirked his “I know what I’m doing” cheeky grin and kissed the baby’s cheek before walking away.

Suddenly, You and Elvis start to walk to each other simultaneously as if all that time apart wore you out and you needed another dose, attracting like the opposite sides of the strongest magnet, the two of you meet in the middle of the room.

You’re the next to get your cheek kissed and he whispers to you, “Remember when ya said earlier that things could be worse when I was grumbling ‘bout the sweater.”

“Oh, I remember.”

He holds your hand and begins to lead you to the kitchen as he finishes his thought. “I’ll tell ya. Today couldn’t get better, honey. It really couldn’t.”

As you walk, the voices of tiny children ring out suddenly, “Mistletoe! Mistletoe!” It took Elvis tapping your shoulder and pointing up to notice that the audience was addressing you and him. Through long lashes you look up and indeed a piece of green hangs above in the archway that you and Elvis stand in. To any on-looker the image of you two could’ve been a painting. You indeed felt frozen in time.

“It’s the mistletoe! That’s your boyfriend, you gotta kiss!” The tiny voices continued their protesting.

Elvis smiles at you, “Well, I guess it could get a little better. It’s bad luck to ignore the mistletoe. Need to feel ya on me…been too long.”

“Merry Christmas, Elvis.” Just like that, you reach up and kiss him, your thumb moving back and forth on his cheek as you tilt your head to the side. He starts kissing you back immediately and an eruption of tiny cheers fills the room.

[multifan2022]

Masterlist

*So this was orignally gonna be a one and done.. But its gotten to be longer than I thought and I have so many ideas for it.. so heres part 1.. Hope you all like it.. thank you to @callsign-dragonbaron for all your writing. You really inspired me to write this piece.*

Life in the Navy wasn't always easy, it was stressful and sometimes the days were extremely long. Some of the people made you want to spoon your eyes out. Having been in the military for almost 20 years though had its advantages, plus you out ranked most of the people your age. But you had worked so hard, for so long plowing the competition out of your way to your new rank of Captain. It felt almost impossible, between being married and having a beautiful little girl at home. Sometimes doing the hours you needed to do felt impossible. But when your husband came to you and told you about the promotion and he swore he had nothing to do with it, lets just say it led to an amazing night. 

With all your accomplishments you really weren't surprised when you were offered a permanent spot in Fightertown. But when you were told about the top secret uranium mission, you were shocked to hear that they needed you to fly it, not teach it. It really only took a few days to realize why your husband was being extra attentive towards you. Why when you decided to not go to the Hard Deck and opted to stay home and watch a movie with your daughter you swore you heard him sigh in relief. As you watched Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, Aka you absent AF father, walk down the aisle you almost laughed when his steps faltered. 

It was clear by his face that your file had not been in his hand, he did not know you were here. Hell you wouldn't be surprised if he didnt even know you were in the Navy. It had been just over 20 years since you had spoken. Thanks to Iceman and some of the others from their day, you had never been stationed together, never flown together. It should've hurt that your stepfather was more involved in your life than your actual one but you were so used to it that it didn't even matter anymore. You almost laughed again when you saw there was another very unhappy face amongst the crowd. 

The chocolate brown eyes of your childhood love met yours and softened. Bradley knew that as hard as this was for him, it had to be ten times harder for you. While you guys hadn't really stayed in contact, you hadn't really fallen apart either. You were (unknowingly) still his emergency contact, the one and only person who would be handed a flag if something happened to him. Your father had chosen to protect him over you, chased him and his career around and didn't even know where you lived. It had been the thing that pushed you away from him. In his eyes what cost him his chance with you, his chance to start a family, his chance at love. That was only confirmed when you raised your hand to tuck a stray hair behind your ear and a large ring caught his attention. 

He thought it was weird when he got to base and was informed by Warlock that if he was married, he would be allowed to wear his wedding band. He thought maybe it was something new the Navy was trying out, but now he saw it for what it was. If he had to guess, you were married to someone high ranking, someone who wanted it known that you were taken. It was smart, because seeing the size of the ring and knowing that orders were slightly changed at the last minute would allow just about anyone to put two and two together. 

Except maybe Hangman.. 

You watched as his eyes flicked to your hand, which you then pulled down and tucked into your other. A large 3.29 carat pear cut diamond was surrounded by 76 small round cut diamonds that covered the halo and shank of your engagement ring. A smaller eternity style wedding band sat just below it, with 14 round cut diamonds totalling 1.67 carats. It was hefty and you were not the least bit surprised when your husband told you he changed things around so you could wear it. He had spent months picking it out, begging your friends to ask weird little questions here and there like. 

What kind of diamond cut do you like?

What style?

What type of metal?

Covered shank or plain metal?

Big or small?

He was a meticulous man, your husband, and while your ring was a little bigger than what you had originally thought you loved it. Sure it had cost him over a month's worth of his Vice Admiral pay, but what did he care? Beau would buy you and your daughter the world if he could. Making sure you could wear your wedding ring, the only symbol of his love and dedication that you could carry, was a top priority to him. Even more so when you had decided to hyphenate your name so you could still go by Mitchell on assignments like this. 

Your eyes met Beaus as your father took the podium, talking about this and that but you weren't really listening. You only tuned back in and looked at him long enough to hear “Today, we will start with what you think you know. It's time to show me what you're made of.” Unshockingly to you, he looked directly at Bradley, or Rooster, whatever. You can tell that he is basically challenging him with one look and you roll your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek as you look away. You know that no matter what you do in the sky it won't matter, you'll never be good enough in his eyes. 

Cyclone can see the pain you're trying desperately to hide, he knows better than anyone how much you don't want to care about the other Captain. He knows probably better than you how much you do, that you're in denial over your love for Maverick. He tried everything he could to get one of you off this mission. Begged Ice to not throw the two of you together for one of the most dangerous mission you would ever have to fly. Begged him to think about the repercussions of this man teaching both you and Rooster. But at the end of the day he was outmanned and outranked. 

He nods at you and winks as you walk by heading to the tarmac, brushing yourself against him just enough for him to feel it but not enough for anyone other than Warlock to see. The other man just rolls his eyes playfully and chuckles under his breath. Being the only other person here who knows about the union between you and Beau you don't have to be as careful around him. He would take your secrets to the grave if he needed to, he was like a brother to both you and Cyclone. He watched as Beaus' eyes followed you towards the door, and could see the tension in his shoulders and neck. 

Pete could see it too, as he turned and watched his daughter leave. It shocked and concerned him to find the Vice Admirals eyes on his daughter. Maybe she was just as much trouble as he was, maybe Cyclone didn't like her. Maybe she had, even without him, followed in his exact footsteps. He eyed over his superior officer as he jogged past calling his daughter's name. Surprised when she stopped and turned to him, arms crossed, that same ring catching his eye as it did Bradleys. His eyebrows pulled together as he spoke “You're married?” 

Scoffing you looked to the side, watching as Bradley approached and Hangman watched on. “20 years and that's the first thing you say to me? Should I pretend to be shocked? OR should I pretend that in 30 seconds when Bradshaw walks by that you're not going to be more interested in following him?” Both of you stood in tense silence as Bradley walked by, making eye contact with you before he pushed his aviators up and kept walking. You could immediately tell by the way Mavs eyes followed him what he wanted. Scoffing again you turn and shake your head making your way towards your jet to start preflight checks as your father once again.. Chases after Bradley. 

~~~

“Good morning Aviators, this is your Captain speaking. Welcome to basic fighter maneuvers, as briefed today's exercise is dogfighting. Guns only, no missiles, we do not go below the hard deck of 5,000 feet. Working as a team, you will try to shoot the other Captain Mitchell down or else.” Maverick looked up from his cockpit watching as you flew just low enough to not register on Fanboy and Payback or Roosters radar. Deep down he's proud. 

“Or else what Sir.” Payback laughs, causing you to grin and shake your head. You've known Payback and Fanboy for a while, they're cocky but in a fun way. Mav chuckles watching as you drop just a little lower “Or else she shoots back. If she shoots either one of you down, you both lose.” Back at Base Hangman is playing with a toy plane as he says “The Mitchells need an ego check.” Bob turns and looks at Phoenix before looking at Jake, “Do you know who Y/n is?” Jake shrugs saying something about how he doesnt care who she is before Bob speaks again. “Y/ns call sign in Valkyrie. Do any of you know what the Valkyrie do?” He turns and looks around at all the other aviators making jokes at your expense. Cyclone and Warlock are there too, silently thankful someone else is sticking up for you when they can't. 

When nobody speaks Bob laughs “They deliver dead warriors to Valhalla, the Norse version of paradise. Her callsign is a play on that.. She delivers men to heaven.. Or hell I guess you could say.. She's the only Aviator of our time to have 5 confirmed kills.. She is the best of the best. We are lucky to have her here, so shut and learn.” A newfound respect for the backseater grew within some of those present as they turned back to the radio, or screens. 

As those in the sky decide on the 200 push up rule, you're securing your oxygen mask and looking up waiting for the signal. “Fights on, let's turn and burn.” Pushing things into gear your body slams back as your jet picks up altitude and speed, turning at the last second to fly between the two jets. The only thing anyone can hear over the radio is you laughing and the three men squealing about how you scared them. “God I hope this isn't the best of the best boys.. Gonna need to get Nix and Bobert out here… Maybe give me some real competition. But I'll slow down.. Try not to get fired on the first day.” 

Beau shakes his head and wipes a hand over his face in exasperation. He loves you more than anything in the world, but in the air, as Valkyrie and not Y/n he could choke you. And not in the fun way you like, in the way that he wants to choke Maverick. There's a reason you're the best of the best, and it's your “Spicy” flying skills as you like to call them. But it still gives him anxiety and annoys the absolute hell out of him. 

“Tally! Tally! Tally! Valkyries coming in break left!” Fanboy yells at his watches, you're jet speed at them. Just like that the fights are on, you spend the next few hours doing what you do best. Men and women are on the ground doing push up after push up while you continue to knock them out of the sky. Mavericks proud, Cyclones proud and also kinda turned on. But you just feel like you can breathe, even with your fathers voice pitching in every once in a while. Up here you're in your element. At least you were until Hangman starts talking shit about Bob. “Ah no I got it.. Baby on board.” You can hear him laugh, and even though you have to admit the man has a beautiful smile, you still want to punch him. Instead you opt for scaring the shit out of him and speeding between their jets. “Greetings Aviators fights on.. Oh and Hangman.. This is for making fun of Bobert.” 

Later after many.. Many flights.. Its you against Hangman and Rooster.. They do alright, but never good enough, finally Mav calls it quits and the two pull up beside you. The suns already setting when you hear Hangman's voice again. “So Val, mind if I ask you a personal question?” You can see Rooster shaking his head but you answer anyways “Would it matter if I did?” He chuckles then hits you right in the center of your chest. “What's up with you and Maverick? You fly, he flies.. Shouldn't you be like.. Super tight? Does he care more about Bradshaw than you? You got a daddy issue I should know about?” 

You sigh and can envision your husband's fists clenching at the comment. Knowing that you do.. In fact, do have some daddy issues. Him being 20 years your senior proves that. But you just laugh the comment off and watch the setting sun, “You should probably be more worried about where's he at, don't worry about me. I'm good.. Very good.” As you raise one hand to flip him off he speaks again, “Bet if it was him you were fighting up here, you wouldn't be so good..” Rooster watched as you turned back and looked straight ahead causing Hangman to laugh before you spoke. “What happens or has happened between myself and Captain Mitchell is none of your concern Lieutenant. But for the sake of comradery, I'll tell you I'm pretty confident I could outdo him too..”  

Just then Mavericks plane slides out from under all of you, you had a feeling he was there since he was being so quiet, you just genuinely didn't care. When he inverts over your plane the two of you stay locked in a staring contest as the other two just watch on. When he speaks, you feel your heart rate speed up, your blood boil as memories of all the times he walked away flash through your mind. All the times he was there for Bradley and not you, all the unanswered phone calls or emails. The turbulence threw meeting Beau, he wasn't at your wedding nor does he even know you have a child. 

“Come on, let's get this over with.” That's all it takes from his mouth to have you almost foaming at the mouth. 38 years of anger and abandonment pain flooding to the surface and coming out in the sky. Back at base, Warlock turns and looks at Cyclone whose face is flushing as he intently watches the screens in front of him. He can see his wife's face as it becomes a dark red color, can see the fire he loves so much blaze in her eyes as he prays she won't take the bait. But, being who you are, you do. “Fights on!” Jerking your plane the opposite way of Mavericks you both start to spiral downwards, barely hearing Hangman's comment about your and your fathers drama being on a Skywalker level. 

Keeping your eyes locked on your father you can feel yourself getting more and more pissed every time he opens his mouth. “All right you put us here, how are you gonna get yourself out?” You laugh harshly and breathlessly as the g`s hold you back in your seat. “I did put us here, Sir. This is just one Mitchell ego fighting the other to see who's best. Feel free to bail out anytime.” You can feel the physical strain this is taking on you, and you can hear it in Pete's voice when he speaks. “How low you wanna go, Sweetheart?” 

Shaking your head, trying to clear away the memories of him calling you that as a child you reply with so much venom in your voice that those hearing it on base wince. “I can go as low as you can, Dad. And that's saying something!” The planes speed around each other, faster and faster towards the ground with no sign of pulling up from either of you. Mav tries not to think about the last time he heard you call him that. It was a voicemail, the one saying that you missed him, begging him to just answer the phone or text you. Anything, just something to let you know that he actually cared. He pushes aside the guilt, and anger he has towards himself to try and make his point. “The past is the past, for both of us!” 

Cyclone can see tears slipping down your face as he watches the screen. All he wants to do is wipe them away, kiss your forehead and hold you until you feel better. He wants to take you home to your daughter who will make you laugh and remind you that you're not just Mavericks abandoned daughter anymore. His hand unconsciously reaches for a mic as your voice rings. “You'd like to believe that wouldn't you! Absolve yourself of all the guilt that is probably eating away at you! I won't tell you that it's ok you left! I won't pretend like you didnt destroy me Maverick! This is all on you!” 

“Hard decks 5,000 ft guys your runnin outta room!” Hangman's words get ignored as you and your father just keep spinning. Hangmans shocked, Rooster is internally panicking as you ignore them. “Your strategy is about to run us into the ground, what's your move?” You can hear the panic in Mavericks' voice too, it's exactly what you wanted. What you needed, to feel superior over him in the very thing he left you for. “I can go as low as you Sir.” You say calmly, never even looking at your gages, you can hear everything beeping and telling you to pull up. When your eyes do flick down you see you're under 1,000 feet and dropping fast. 

Maverick finally bails out and pulls up just over 700 feet above the ground. Leaving you too pull up at just under 700, “Come on Valkyrie you got this, don't think just do.” In the wings Hangman and Rooster are cheering you on as you get a tone on your father. “You're out Maverick.. Shocker that you were the first one to bail huh? That feels pretty familiar.” Your words hit their intended target as Mavs head snaps to look at you but you're staring straight ahead. Pulling away faster than the rest to get to base, then go home.

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PART 2

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@callsign-dragonbaron​